"  Under  the  greenwood  tree 
Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 
And  turn  his  merry  note  ..." 


The  Golden  Treasury 

SELECTED   FROM 
THE   BEST   SONGS   AND   LYRICAL  POEMS 

IN   THE   ENGLISH   LANGUAGE 

AND   ARRANGED   WITH   NOTES 

BY   FRANCIS   T.   PALGRAVE 


Edited  for  the  Use  of  Schools  by 

W.  P.  TRENT  and  JOHN   ERSKINE 

Professors  in  Columbia  University 


GINN   AND  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BY 
W.  P.  TRENT  AND  JOHN  ERSKINE 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 
638.8 


REPLACING 


GINN     AND     COMPANY 

BOSTON     •      NEW  YORK     •      CHICAGO     •      LONDON 
ATLANTA  •   DALLAS  •   COLUMBUS  •   SAN  FRANCISCO 


EDITORIAL  NOTE 


This  edition  of  the  "  Golden  Treasury  "  is  intended  for  high-school 
students  and  for  the  general  reader.  We  have  tried  to  let  the 
poems  speak  for  themselves,  adding  only  such  notes  of  information 
as  one  class  of  our  readers  or  another  might  find  helpful.  For  the  most 
part  we  have  avoided  aesthetic  criticism ;  where  all  is  so  excellent,  the 
reader  cannot  go  wrong  if  he  makes  his  own  choices  and  discoveries. 
In  preparing  the  notes  we  have  consulted  the  available  annotations, 
and  wish  to  acknowledge  much  serviceable  guidance,  especially  from 
the  elaborate  commentary  by  Mr.  J.  H.  Fowler  and  Mr.  W.  Bell, 
published  by  the  Macmillan  Company,  and  from  the  edition  by  Mr. 
Herbert  Bates,  published  by  Longmans,  Green,  and  Co.  In  the 
omission  of  all  metrical  and  of  most  etymological  questions,  we  have 
wished  to  make  clear  to  teachers  and  students  what  seem  to  us  the 
more  important  steps  in  the  approach  to  poetry. 

W.  P.  T. 

J.E. 


M18S932 


in' 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION vii 

DEDICATION xvii 

PALGRAVE'S  PREFACE xix 

BOOK  I i 

BOOK  II       59 

BOOK  III 143 

BOOK  IV 213 

BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 377 

NOTES 395 

INDEX  OF  WRITERS 445 

INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES       457 


INTRODUCTION 

i 

Of  all  literary  types  the  lyric  is  perhaps  the  easiest  to  recognize  and 
the  hardest  to  define.  If  we  say  that  the  lyric  is  a  song,  —  a  poem 
which  is  written  to  be  sung  or  which  sounds  as  if  it  might  be  sung,  — 
we  should  have  to  include  under  our  definition  the  old  English  or 
Scotch  ballad,  which  has  the  suggestion  of  song,  but  which  is  narra- 
tive and  belongs  rather  to  the  type  of  the  short  story.  Palgrave  chose 
for  his  anthology  those  poems  which  turned  upon  a  single  thought, 
feeling,  or  situation.  Yet  this  formula  did  not  represent  his  notion 
of  the  lyric;  for  he  adds  that  he  excluded  narrative,  descriptive, 
and  didactic  poems,  "unless  accompanied  by  rapidity  of  movement, 
brevity,  and  the  coloring  of  human  passion."  The  heart  of  his  defi- 
nition really  lay  in  the  last  modest  phrase,  "  the  coloring  of  human 
passion." 

For  the  lyric  is  essentially  that  literary  type  which  expresses  emo- 
tion, just  as  the  drama  and  the  novel  express  active  experience,  and  the 
essay  expresses  thought.  In  his  study  of  "The  School  of  Giorgione" 
Walter  Pater  said  that  all  art  tends  to  become  music,  —  that  is,  to 
stir  emotions  rather  than  to  state  intellectual  ideas.  A  musician  is 
annoyed  when  some  one  asks  what  the  music  "  means  " ;  to  him  it  is 
a  feeling,  not  a  statement ;  it  means  no  more  than  does  the  taste  of 
sugar.  So  the  painter  is  annoyed  at  the  common  attempt  to  read 
a  story  into  a  picture ;  to  him  the  picture  is  a  scheme  of  color  and 
an  arrangement  of  lines,  —  a  sensation  for  the  eye,  as  music  is  for 
the  ear.  But  the  average  man  looks  for  an  idea,  —  especially  in  the 
United  States,  where  "  intellect "  has  unfortunately  been  rated  higher 
than  the  gift  and  training  to  appreciate  beauty ;  and  in  all  art  we  see 
a  certain  struggle  between  the  artist's  desire  to  set  out  the  loveliness 
of  the  world  for  man's  enjoyment,  and  man's  contrary  desire  that  art 
shall  say  something  that  can  be  translated  into  words. 


viii  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Pater  in  his  famous  saying  meant  that  the  best  of  art  cannot  be 
translated  into  words.  When  we  hear  a  'cello  or  violin,  the  tragic 
tones  give  us  a  luxurious  sadness,  although  we  have  no  reason  to  be 
sad,  and  cannot  tell  another  man  what  the  tone  of  the  'cello  is  like. 
The  hurdy-gurdy  in  the  street  playing  a  dance  tune  sets  the  children 
to  waltzing,  and  the  drums  and  fifes  of  the  military  band  make  us 
feel  like  marching.  These  different  emotions,  we  notice,  can  be  indi- 
cated only  by  mentioning  the  instruments  that  stimulate  them ;  if  the 
reader  has  experienced  the  emotions,  he  will  understand  the  reference, 

—  otherwise  it  will  mean  nothing  to  him.   So  the  lyric,  nearest  of  all 
literary  types  to  music,  says  to  us  many  delicious  things  —  recogniz- 
able but  inexpressible  emotions  —  which  are  over  and  above  what 
the  actual  words  mean. 

The  chief  language,  so  to  speak,  which  the  lyric  employs  in  addi- 
tion to  actual  words  is  rhythm.  Whether  the  beat  of  the  lines  is 
strong  or  weak,  grave  or  merry ;  whether  the  measure  befits  a  song 
or  a  dance  tune  or  a  military  march,  —  we  feel  all  this  before  we  even 
attend  to  the  intellectual  message  of  the  verse.  The  rhythm,  the 
physical  habit  of  the  lyric,  denotes  the  vital  energy  of  its  emotion. 
Poems  with  a  strongly  marked  rhythm,  like  Jonson's  "  Hymn  to 
Diana  "  (p.  87),  suggest  and  stimulate  a  well-defined  state  of  feel- 
ing wherein  the  emotion  easily  dominates  —  as  in  the  lyric  it  should 

—  the  intellectual  content.    Such  a  poem,  however,  as  Crashaw's 
"  Wishes  for  the  Supposed  Mistress  "  (p.  87)  indicates  at  once  by  its 
less  definite  rhythm  that  its  emotional  energy  is  relaxed  and  unimpoi- 
tant,  almost  secondary  to  the  thoughts  that  make  it  a  poem  of  intel- 
lectual conceits  rather  than  of  feeling.    And  in  the  fixed  forms,  like 
the  sonnet,  where  the  rhythm  and  the  number  of  syllables  and  lines 
are  prescribed,  a  reader  of  even  slight  experience  detects  differences 
of  rhythmic  energy  between  Shakespeare's  "Let  me  not  to  the  mar- 
riage of  true  minds  "  (p.  2 1 ),  Milton's  "  When  I  consider  how  my  life 
is  spent"  (p.  81),  and  Wordsworth's  "The  world  is  too  much  with 
us  "(p.  359)- 

Within  the  single  poem  the  rhythm  may  alter  if  it  parallels  some 
emotional  change.  Obviously  such  alterations  occur  most  often  in 
long  poems.  The  changes  in  Dryden's  "  Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day  " 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

are  necessary  to  express,  as  in  page  67,  line  30,  the  sensation  roused 
by  trumpet  and  drum ;  or,  as  in  page  68,  line  7,  the  feeling  stirred  by 
the  soft,  complaining  flute.  With  Dryden  and  the  other  essentially 
classical  poets  the  change  of  rhythm  is  formal  and  for  a  set  purpose ; 
the  lyrics  of  this  school  therefore  divide  into  sections,  which  vaguely 
resemble  the  movements  of  a  sonata  or  symphony.  In  the  romantic 
practice  of  Shelley,  however,  the  changes  are  more  subtle  and  seldom 
prepared  for;  the  rhythm  is  more  sensitive  to  veering  moods,  and 
accommodates  itself  to  its  subject  like  modern  music,  measure  by 
measure,  instead  of  prescribing  the  form  its  subject  shall  take.  Line 
1 6  of  Shelley's  famous  verses  "  Written  among  the  Euganean  Hills  " 
must,  for  example,  be  read  by  itself,  not  in  the  rhythm  of  the  preced- 
ing lines  ;  the  effect  is  to  express  the  sinking  of  the  metaphorical  ship  : 

The  tempest  fleet 
Hurries  on  with  lightning  feet, 
Riving  sail,  and  cord,  and  plank, 
Till  the  ship  has  almost  drank 
Death  from  the  o'er-brimming  deep ; 
/         /          /          /  / 

And  sinks  down,  down,  like  that  sleep 

When  the  dreamer  seems  to  be 
Weltering  through  eternity. 

Next  after  rhythm,  time  —  the  tempo  of  music  —  is  the  vehicle  of 
lyric  expression.  It  is  an  error  to  think  of  all  verse  or  of  all  the  lines 
in  one  poem  as  measured  by  fixed  time  beats.  The  first  line  of  Burns's 
"  To  a  Mouse  "  (p.  182)  is  appreciably  slower  than  the  second  line  or 
the  third;  and  the  stanzas  of  Gray's  "On  a  Favorite  Cat"  (p.  148) 
may  be  compared  with  those  of  Wordsworth's  "  The  Education  of 
Nature "  (p.  226),  —  the  second  generally  slower  in  effect,  full  of 
musical  rallentandos,  although  metrically  the  poems  are  alike.  Like 
rhythm,  the  time  may  change  with  subtle  variations,  or  more  formally, 
as  at  the  end  of  the  introductions  to  "L' Allegro"  (p.  124)  and  "  II 
Penseroso  "  (p.  1 28).  The  length  of  the  syllable  or  the  use  of  rests 
concerns  the  time  of  verse  as  vitally  as  the  length  of  notes  and 
rests  concerns  the  tempo  of  music;  without  intelligence  in  these  ele- 
mentary divisions  neither  music  nor  verse  can  be  read.  Usually  one 


x  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

can  guess  at  the  length  of  a  syllable  from  its  rhythmic  or  intellectual 
emphasis.  In  the  line  "  Toll  for  the  Brave  "  (p.  160)  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  the  first  word  represents  both  a  long  and  a  short  syllable,  and 
the  line  has  three  beats,  to  correspond  with  the  rhythm  of  the  follow- 
ing lines: 

Toll  for  the  Brave ! 

/  /  / 

The  brave  that  are  no  more ! 

And  in  Coleridge's  "  Youth  and  Age  "  (p.  361),  the  reverberating 
words  "young"  and  "old"  at  the  end  of  lines  5,  22,  and  43  oc- 
cupy the  attention  that  would  elsewhere  be  given  to  half  a  line.  But 
in  line  3,  page  68,  of  the  "  Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day  "  the  effect  of 
the  stanza  depends  upon  the  correct  reading  of  the  twice-repeated 
"  double."  Unless  these  syllables  represent  very  short  notes,  the  well- 
defined  rhythm  is  confused  and  there  is  no  imitation  of  the  drum  roll : 

/  / 

The  trumpet's  loud  clangor 

/  / 

Excites  us  to  arms, 

/  / 

With  shrill  notes  of  anger 

/  / 

And  mortal  alarms. 

The  double  double  double  beat 

/  / 

Of  the  thundering  drum 

/  / 

Cries  '  Hark !  The  foes  come  ; 

/  /  /  / 

Charge,  charge,  't  is  too  late  to  retreat ! ' 

The  third  vehicle  of  lyric  expression  is  tone,  or  what  we  often  call 
in  a  loose  way  "  musical  quality."  The  same  note  played  upon  the 
piano  and  the  flute  and  the  violin  has  in  each  case  a  different  appeal, 
which  lies  in  the  tone  quality  of  the  instrument.  The  melody  would 
probably  seem  most  appealing,  most  emotional,  when  played  upon 
the  violin,  because  that  instrument  has  the  most  emotional  tone.  So 
the  thought  of  a  lyric  stirs  us  to  a  greater  degree  when  the  very 
sound  of  the  words  is  stirring.  This  word  music  depends  upon  the 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

combination  of  vowels  and  consonants ;  the  liquid  consonants  /,  m, 
n,  r,  produce  the  most  obvious  effect  of  smoothness,  as  we  see  in 
many  a  haunting  quotation  : 

That  last  infirmity  of  noble  mind.  (p.  75,  1.  22) 

He  nothing  common  did  or  mean 

Upon  that  memorable  scene.  (p.  71, 1.  17) 

From  Harmony,  from  heavenly  Harmony 

This  universal  frame  began.  (p.  67,  1.  6) 

The  tone  quality  of  a  lyric  is  hard  for  some  people  to  appreciate  when 
the  intellectual  content  of  the  poem  is  slight.  Their  problem  is  then 
much  as  if  they  were  listening  to  pure  music  and  trying  to  discover 
its  "  meaning."  Marlowe's  "  Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  Love  " 
(p.  5)  says  very  little  intellectually ;  rhythmically,  too,  it  is  extremely 
simple;  but  the  tone  that  distinguishes  it  from  beginning  to  end, 
with  a  faultless  consistency  rare  even  in  the  best  lyrics,  has  made 
it  in  some  respects  the  most  significant  of  Elizabethan  songs  —  sig- 
nificant of  the  worship  of  ideal  beauty  and  of  the  gift  of  music  only 
at  that  time  characteristic  of  the  English  race. 

Because  word  rhythm  and  word  melody  are  conveniently  described 
in  terms  of  music,  some  confusion  is  likely  to  result  as  to  the  relation 
between  music  and  verse.  The  two  arts,  for  practical  purposes,  are 
distinct,  and  cannot  be  confused  without  some  loss  to  each  or  either. 
The  fact  that  the  lyric  in  Elizabeth's  time  was  rich  in  melody  and 
rhythm  cannot  be  explained  by  the  public  ability  at  the  time  to  play 
the  lute,  or  the  educated  gentleman's  ability  to  sing  a  part  in  a  mad- 
rigal, any  more  than  the  frequent  harshness  of  Browning's  verse  could 
be  cited  as  proof  that  he  was  not  an  accomplished  musician.  We 
know,  of  course,  that  his  skill  in  music  was  great ;  and  that  Tennyson, 
who  excelled  him  in  verse  melody,  knew  nothing  of  music;  and  that 
Edward  Fitz-Gerald,  who  translated  "Omar"  into  liquid  verse,  was 
a  musician.  So  all  combinations  of  knowledge  and  ignorance  in  the 
two  arts  are  possible,  and  there  is  no  necessary  relation.  The  speak- 
ing voice,  for  which  poetry  is  composed,  is  essentially  an  instrument 
of  percussion,  like  the  piano,  and  its  words  must  be  uttered  with  a 


xii  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

certain  speed  before  they  make  their  effect.  Song  or  ordinary  music 
is  prolonged  sound,  and  needs  an  instrument  of  sustained  tone,  like 
the  singing  voice  or  the  organ.  The  old  ballads  were  sung  to  tunes 
which  now  are  forgotten,  because  the  words  were  much  more  impor- 
tant. Yet  the  words  show  in  certain  rhythmic  peculiarities  that  they 
were  fitted  to  musical  exigencies,  as  is  the  case  with  most  of  Shake- 
speare's songs,  like  "  Come  away,  come  away,  Death  "  (p.  41).  Had 
the  words  made  no  stronger  appeal  than  the  notes,  they  would  not 
have  found  their  way  into  this  or  any  other  anthology,  but  would 
have  been  preserved,  if  at  all,  as  incidental  to  the  music. 

What  music  once  accompanied  the  lyric  is  of  little  consequence  to 
the  young  student.  Of  much  greater  importance  is  his  ability  to  feel 
in  the  poem  the  expression  of  more  than  the  words,  —  that  approxi- 
mation to  the  condition  of  music  which  is  found  in  the  rhythm,  the 
time,  and  the  tone.  Oral  readers  of  poetry  may  usually  be  classified 
according  as  they  value  the  intellectual  content  of  the  verse,  reducing 
it  to  prose,  or  the  melody  of  it,  turning  it  often  into  a  chant.  It  is  said 
that  the  great  poets  monotoned  their  lines  in  what  might  seem  to  be 
a  singsong ;  so  Tennyson,  in  particular,  read.  Whatever  our  taste 
in  that  matter,  we  should  retain  our  grip  on  the  one  important  truth 
that  the  lyric,  above  all  other  literature,  is  emotional ;  and  we  are  not 
reading  it  wisely  if  it  does  not  reach  our  emotions  before  it  reaches 
our  brain. 

II 

When  a  lyric  is  composed  the  process  in  the  poet's  mind  is  perhaps 
something  like  this  :  an  emotion  is  aroused  in  him  by  some  stimulus ; 
that  emotion  possesses  him  until  it  begins  to  take  a  definite  rhythm  in 
his  mind,  as  the  photographic  film  is  developed  and  takes  form  in  the 
chemical  bath;  when  the  rhythm  is  unmistakable  to  his  inner  ear, 
the  poet  writes  his  lyric.  To  him  the  terms  in  the  process  are  stim- 
ulus, emotion,  and  rhythm.  To  the  reader,  however,  the  poem  must 
present  itself  in  a  different  order.  He  perceives  the  rhythm  first,  and 
by  the  rhythm  he  is  prepared  for  the  emotion  that  produced  it ;  by  a 
solemn  rhythm  he  is  prepared  for  a  solemn  emotion ;  by  a  joyous 
rhythm  he  is  prepared  for  joy.  If  the  emotion  is  to  be  altogether 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

intelligible,  the  reader  must  come  at  once  upon  some  explanation  of 
the  stimulus;  otherwise  he  cannot  appropriate  to  himself  imagina- 
tively the  poet's  experience.  Therefore  the  stimulus,  in  the  average 
lyric,  must  be  the  second  thing  that  the  reader  or  hearer  perceives. 
After  the  emotion  has  been  felt  and  explained  the  lyric  is  occupied 
with  developing  it. 

In  the  average  successful  lyric  the  stimulus  is  made  clear  in  the 
opening  lines.  In  Lovelace's  "  To  Lucasta  "  (p.  94)  it  is  evident  that 
the  lady  has  just  accused  the  lover  of  unkindness,  and  the  taunt  has 
stirred  him  to  this  spirited  defense.  In  the  opening  paragraph  of 
"  Lycidas  M  (p.  73)  the  occasion  of  the  poet's  grief  is  stated  more  elab- 
orately ;  so  the  patriotic  stimulus  is  announced  at  the  beginning  of 
Campbell's  "Battle  of  the  Baltic"  (p.  255).  The  stimulus  may  be 
found  in  any  human  experience,  —  in  conversation,  as  in  Lovelace's 
song ;  in  nature,  as  in  Shelley's  "  Ode  to  the  West  Wind  "  (p.  353) ;  or 
in  art,  as  in  Keats's  "Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn"  (p.  360).  In  all  these 
cases  the  reader  is  aware  of  the  cause  of  the  emotion  in  the  poet,  and 
it  becomes  the  cause  of  emotion  also  in  himself ;  it  makes  concrete 
and  rational  what  would  otherwise  be  only  a  vague  atmosphere  of 
feeling  created  by  the  rhythm. 

The  experience  of  an  emotion,  however,  has  sometimes  other  phe- 
nomena, which  to  the  poet  seem  more  important  even  than  its  stim- 
ulus. For  example,  he  may  find  some  aspect  of  nature  in  remarkable 
sympathy  with  an  habitual  emotional  state  of  his,  and  that  sympathy 
may  appear  to  him  of  vastly  more  importance  than  the  original  cause 
of  his  mood.  To  express  his  mood  he  may  then  depend  upon  the 
rhythm  and  the  context  of  the  poem ;  he  perhaps  will  not  try  to  ex- 
plain it.  In  the  "Ode  to  a  Nightingale  "  (p.  302)  Keats  tells  us  that 
he  is  extremely  unhappy,  and  that  the  nightingale  singing  near  by 
seems  to  be  the  very  voice  of  his  soul.  The  intention  of  the  poem 
is  to  make  us  feel  Keats's  recognition  of  his  own  mood  and  aspi- 
rations in  the  nightingale.  We  know  from  other  sources  that  the 
sorrow  which  beset  him  at  the  moment  was  the  death  of  a  favorite 
brother,  but  that  fact  is  not  important  to  the  poem,  and  is  therefore 
omitted.  In  Wordsworth's  "  The  Daffodils  "  (p.  314)  the  poet's  mood, 
before  the  daffodils  have  gladdened  him,  is  peculiarly  empty.  He 


xiv  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

was  walking  alone,  we  are  told,  but  whether  he  was  sad  or  gay  or 
just  absent-minded,  we  are  not  told ;  it  is  not  necessary  to  the  poem. 

Lyrics  intended  to  be  sung  in  drama  often  omit  the  stimulus  alto- 
gether, because  it  is  implied  in  the  dramatic  situation  or  explained  in 
the  character  of  the  singer.  Such  lyrics  of  course  would  be  unintelli- 
gible if  we  were  not  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  play ;  the  two  fairy 
songs  from  "  The  Tempest "  (p.  2)  would  seem  the  most  arrant  non- 
sense if  we  did  not  know  Ariel  and  the  other  characters  in  that  most 
poetic  drama;  and  what  verdict  would  a  fearless  reader  pass  upon  the 
famous  "  Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred  "  (p.  44),  if  he  did  not  know 
of  Portia's  desperate  craft  to  evade  her  father's  command  and  hint 
to  Bassanio  the  relative  worth  of  the  caskets  ? 

Some  very  short  poems  are  classed  as  lyrics  which  not  only 
are  narrative  but  seem  at  first  to  be  absolutely  without  emotion, 
—  poems  like  Scott's  "  Proud  Maisie  is  in  the  wood  "  (p.  279),  or 
Campbell's  "  Earl  March  look'd  on  his  dying  child  "  (p.  246).  The 
fact  is,  this  type  of  lyric  consists  of  the  expression  of  the  stimulus 
rather  than  of  the  emotion  it  stimulates.  The  most  important  part  of 
the  lyric  is  in  the  feelings  of  the  reader.  To  be  sure,  all  art  arouses 
emotion  in  the  beholder  or  hearer,  and  to  that  extent  all  art  is  lyrical ; 
but  the  apparent  detachment  of  this  kind  of  song,  the  impersonal 
manner  that  at  first  appears  to  be  the  very  absence  of  feeling,  is  the 
actor's  skill  in  making  the  spectator  live  the  part.  Success  in  this 
kind  of  lyric  is  rare,  and  the  examples  of  it  included  in  "  The  Golden 
Treasury,"  especially  the  selections  from  Scott,  are  among  the  most 
artistic  lyrics  in  the  language. 

Important  as  the  stimulus  is  in  the  inward  structure  of  the  lyric, 
the  development  of  the  emotion  is  usually,  of  course,  the  chief  object 
of  the  poem.  Any  emotion  is  short-lived ;  it  subsides  gradually  until 
the  mind  is  reestablished  in  a  state  of  normal  calm.  Therefore  the 
record  of  the  development  of  emotion  in  the  lyric  must  be  brief,  and 
it  concerns  itself  with  the  reestablishment  of  the  intellect  over  the 
feelings.  As  the  lyric  progresses,  the  emotion  is  likely  to  run  thin, 
and  unless  the  poet  has  the  taste  to  stop  in  time,  the  end  of  his  song 
will  be  didactic  or  moralizing  or  narrative,  —  anything  but  lyricaj. 
Our  habitual  ways  of  thought  are  matters  of  convention;  we  think 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

correctly  on  the  great  subjects ;  therefore  our  cold-blooded  pro- 
nouncements on  those  subjects  differ  from  age  to  age,  as  the  fashions 
change,  and  those  cold-blooded  conventions  make  their  appearance 
at  the  end  of  the  lyrics.  In  the  least  controlled  part  of  the  emotional 
experience,  the  immediate  reaction  to  the  stimulus,  the  poet  reveals 
most  of  himself ;  yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  lyric  in  that  per- 
sonal revelation  changes  least  from  century  to  century,  from  land  to 
land ;  for  men  are  of  one  blood  in  their  genuine  feelings,  and  they 
are  estranged  chiefly  by  artificial  habits  of  thought.  The  sonnets  of 
Shakespeare  and  the  love  songs  of  Burns  have  often  the  same  stim- 
ulus, and  where  either  speaks  his  true  emotion  he  is  contemporary 
to  the  other ;  they  differ  in  the  use  to  which  they  put  their  emotions 
and  the  way  in  which  their  natures  recover  their  normal  state. 

The  best  illustration  of  this  analysis  of  the  lyric  can  be  found  in 
the  funeral  poem  or  elegy,  which  from  the  lament  of  Moschus  over 
Bion  has  had  a  traditional  career  in  the  poetry  of  Europe  and  a  very 
brilliant  career  in  English  poetry.  This  type  of  lyric,  expressing 
grief  for  a  dead  friend,  begins  with  a  statement  of  the  cause  of  the 
sorrow,  —  the  stimulus  of  the  emotion.  As  the  grief  subsides,  those 
questions  suggest  themselves  which  are  common  to  all  human  loss, 
—  Why  was  this  man  taken  and  another  left?  or,  Why  should  we 
strive  for  our  ideals,  if  the  accidents  of  life  so  cruelly  defeat  us  ?  In 
the  third  section  of  the  elegy  the  poet's  habitual  reason  is  again  in 
control  of  his  emotion,  and  he  comforts  himself  in  the  conventions 
of  his  time  and  country.  The  first  and  second  portions  of  the  elegy 
in  English  are,  for  all  the  famous  illustrations,  practically  the  same ; 
"  Lycidas  "  (p.  73),  in  the  opinion  of  many  competent  critics,  is  the 
noblest  example  of  the  English  type.  The  third  section,  giving  the 
consolation,  is  very  individual  in  each  elegy.  Milton  has  hope  of 
Christian  immortality ;  Shelley,  in  "Adonais,"  has  a  glimpse  of  the 
immortality  of  beauty ;  Tennyson,  in  "  In  Memoriam,"  comforts  him- 
self with  the  general  promise  of  evolution ;  Arnold,  in  "  Thyrsis," 
turns  to  the  prospect  of  a  heroic  culture.  These  resemblances  and 
differences  are  as  true  of  other  kinds  of  lyric  as  of  the  elegy. 

We  could  put  the  matter  in  a  slightly  different  way  by  saying  that 
the  possible  stimuli  of  the  lyric  are  very  few ;  there  are  few  primary 


xvi  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

emotions,  and  few  occasions  in  any  one  man's  life  when  his  feel- 
ings are  deeply  stirred.  Therefore  the  originality  of  the  lyric  is  to  be 
sought  not  in  the  stimulus  but  in  the  character  of  the  poet  upon  whom 
the  stimulus  acts.  We  read  a  love  song  by  Burns  and  one  by  Byron, 
and  the  charming  one,  say,  by  Graham  of  Gartmore  (p.  166).  The 
stimulus  in  all  three  is  the  same,  but  the  poems  express  Burns  and 
Byron  and  Graham.  Therefore  it  has  been  the  fashion  of  recent 
decades  to  emphasize  the  subjective,  personal  note  in  the  definition 
of  the  lyric,  and  at  least  so  much  truth  is  in  the  convention  as  is 
here  indicated;  the  difficulty  with  the  point  of  view  is  that  to-day 
many  other  kinds  of  literature  besides  the  lyric  are  subjective. 

An  emotion,  a  mere  feeling,  is  the  most  fleeting  of  human  experi- 
ences, no  matter  how  permanent  its  effect.  The  lyric  poets  instinc- 
1  tively  try  to  give  their  emotions  a  kind  of  immortality  in  the  close  of 
the  song.  Their  methods  are  infinite  in  variety ;  it  is  important  only 
to  be  aware  of  the  attempt  and  to  match  the  instinct  in  our  own  feel- 
ings. In  his  poem  to  "  The  Highland  Girl "  (p.  308)  Wordsworth  ends 
with  the  imperishable  landscape  picture  which  is  his  memory  of  the 
incident;  in  "  The  Reaper  "  (p-3 10)  he  bears  a  song  in  his  heart  just  as 
imperishably ;  Burns  creates  a  similar  immortality  for  his  "  Highland 
Mary,"  and  Keats  in  his  great  odes  closes  upon  a  general  truth  or  a 
state  of  mind  which  justly  immortalizes  our  experience  of  the  poem. 
It  is  this  passion  of  all  artists  —  and  most  of  the  lyric  poets  — 
to  make  permanent  a  beauty  that  is  learned  only  in  its  vanishing, 
which  Shelley  expresses  in  the  little  song  aptly  set  at  the  end  of 
this  anthology: 

Music,  when  soft  voices  die, 

Vibrates  in  the  memory  — 

Odors,  when  sweet  violets  sicken, 

Live  within  the  sense  they  quicken. 

Rose  leaves,  when  the  rose  is  dead, 
Are  heap'd  for  the  beloved's  bed ; 
And  so  thy  thoughts,  when  Thou  art  gone, 
Love  itself  shall  slumber  on. 


TO 

ALFRED  TENNYSON 

POET  LAUREATE 

This  book  in  its  progress  has  recalled  often  to  my  memory  a 
man  with  whose  friendship  we  were  once  honored,  to  whom  no 
region  of  English  literature  was  unfamiliar,  and  who,  whilst  rich  in 
all  the  noble  gifts  of  nature,  was  most  eminently  distinguished  by  the 
noblest  and  the  rarest,  — just  judgment  and  high-hearted  patriotism. 
It  would  have  been  hence  a  peculiar  pleasure  and  pride  to  dedicate 
what  I  have  endeavored  to  make  a  true  national  anthology  of  three 
centuries  to  Henry  Hallam.1  But  he  is  beyond  the  reach  of  any 
human  tokens  of  love  and  reverence ;  and  I  desire  therefore  to  place 
before  it  a  name  united  with  his  by  associations  which,  while  poetry 
retains  her  hold  on  the  minds  of  Englishmen,  are  not  likely  to  be 
forgotten. 

Your  encouragement,  given  while  traversing  the  wild  scenery  of 
Treryn  Dinas,2  led  me  to  begin  the  work,  and  it  has  been  completed 
under  your  advice  and  assistance.  For  the  favor  now  asked  I  have 
thus  a  second  reason;  and  to  this  I  may  add  the  homage  which  is 
your  right  as  poet,  and  the  gratitude  due  to  a  friend,  whose  regard 
I  rate  at  no  common  value. 

Permit  me  then  to  inscribe  to  yourself  a  book  which,  I  hope,  may 
be  found  by  many  a  lifelong  fountain  of  innocent  and  exalted  pleasure; 
a  source  of  animation  to  friends  when  they  meet ;  and  able  to  sweeten 
solitude  itself  with  best  society,  —  with  the  companionship  of  the  wise 

1  The  well-known  English  historian  (1777-1859),  author  of  "  View  of  the  State 
of  Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages,"  "  Constitutional  History  of  England,"  "  In- 
troduction to  the  Literature  of  Europe  in  the  i$th,  i6th,  and  i7th  Centuries," 
and  father  of  Arthur  Hallam,  the  subject  of  Tennyson's  "  In  Memoriarri." 

2  On  the  west  coast  of  Cornwall. 


xviii  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

and  the  good,  with  the  beauty  which  the  eye  cannot  see,  and  the 
music  only  heard  in  silence.  If  this  collection  proves  a  storehouse 
of  delight  to  labor  and  to  poverty,  if  it  teaches  those  indifferent  to  the 
poets  to  love  them,  and  those  who  love  them  to  love  them  more,  the 
aim  and  the  desire  entertained  in  framing  it  will  be  fully  accomplished- 

F.  T.  P. 
May,  1 86 1 


PREFACE 

This  little  collection  differs,  it  is  believed,  from  others  in  the 
attempt  made  to  include  in  it  all  the  best  original  lyrical  pieces  and 
songs  in  our  language  (save  a  very  few  regretfully  omitted  on  account 
of  length),  by  writers  not  living,  —  and  none  besides  the  best.  Many 
familiar  verses  will  hence  be  met  with ;  many  also  which  should  be 
familiar.  The  editor  will  regard  as  his  fittest  readers  those  who  love 
poetry  so  well  that  he  can  offer  them  nothing  not  already  known 
and  valued. 

The  editor  is  acquainted  with  no  strict  and  exhaustive  definition 
of  lyrical  poetry;  but  he  has  found  the  task  of  practical  decision 
increase  in  clearness  and  in  facility  as  he  advanced  with  the  work, 
whilst  keeping  in  view  a  few  simple  principles.  "  Lyrical  "  has  been 
here  held  essentially  to  imply  that  each  poem  shall  turn  on  some 
single  thought,  feeling,  or  situation.  In  accordance  with  this,  nar- 
rative, descriptive,  and  didactic  poems  —  unless  accompanied  by  ra- 
pidity of  movement,  brevity,  and  the  coloring  of  human  passion  — 
have  been  excluded.  Humorous  poetry,  except  in  the  very  unfre- 
quent  instances  where  a  truly  poetical  tone  pervades  the  whole,  with 
what  is  strictly  personal,  occasional,  and  religious,  has  been  con- 
sidered foreign  to  the  idea  of  the  book.  Blank  verse  and  the  ten- 
syllable  couplet,  with  all  pieces  markedly  dramatic,  have  been  rejected 
as  alien  from  what  is  commonly  understood  by  "  song,"  and  rarely 
conforming  to  lyrical  conditions  in  treatment.  But  it  is  not  antici- 
pated, nor  is  it  possible,  that  all  readers  shall  think  the  line  accurately 
drawn.  Some  poems,  as  Gray's  "  Elegy,"  the  " Allegro  "  and  "  Pense- 
roso,"  Wordsworth's  "Ruth"  or  Campbell's  "Lord  Ullin,"  might  be 
claimed  with  perhaps  equal  justice  for  a  narrative  or  descriptive  selec- 
tion ;  whilst  with  reference  especially  to  ballads  and  sonnets,  the  editor 
can  only  state  that  he  has  taken  his  utmost  pains  to  decide  without 
caprice  or  partiality. 

xix 


xx  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

This  also  is  all  he  can  plead  in  regard  to  a  point  even  more  liable 
to  question,  —  What  degree  of  merit  should  give  rank  among  the 
best.  That  a  poem  shall  be  worthy  of  the  writer's  genius;  that  it 
shall  reach  a  perfection  commensurate  with  its  aim ;  that  we  should 
require  finish  in  proportion  to  brevity ;  that  passion,  color,  and  origi- 
nality cannot  atone  for  serious  imperfections  in  clearness,  unity,  or 
truth ;  that  a  few  good  lines  do  not  make  a  good  poem ;  that  popu- 
lar estimate  is  serviceable  as  a  guidepost  more  than  as  a  compass ; 
above  all,  that  excellence  should  be  looked  for  rather  in  the  whole 
than  in  the  parts,  —  such  and  other  such  canons  have  been  always 
steadily  regarded.  He  may,  however,  add  that  the  pieces  chosen,  and 
a  far  larger  number  rejected,  have  been  carefully  and  repeatedly 
considered ;  and  that  he  has  been  aided  throughout  by  two  friends 
of  independent  and  exercised  judgment,  besides  the  distinguished 
person  addressed  in  the  Dedication.  It  is  hoped  that  by  this  pro- 
cedure the  volume  has  been  freed  from  that  one-sidedness  which 
must  beset  individual  decisions ;  but  for  the  final  choice  the  editor  is 
alone  responsible. 

Chalmers's  vast  collection,1  with  the  whole  works  of  all  accessi- 
ble poets  not  contained  in  it,  and  the  best  anthologies  of  different 
periods,  have  been  twice  systematically  read  through ;  and  it  is  hence 
improbable  that  any  omissions  which  may  be  regretted  are  due  to 
oversight.  The  poems  are  printed  entire,  except  in  a  very  few  in- 
stances where  a  stanza  or  passage  has  been  omitted.  These  omissions 
have  been  risked  only  when  the  piece  could  be  thus  brought  to  a 
closer  lyrical  unity ;  and,  as  essentially  opposed  to  this  unity,  extracts, 
obviously  such,  are  excluded.  In  regard  to  the  text,  the  purpose  of 
the  book  has  appeared  to  justify  the  choice  of  the  most  poetical 
version,  wherever  more  than  one  exists ;  and  much  labor  has  been 
given  to  present  each  poem,  in  disposition,  spelling,  and  punctuation, 
to  the  greatest  advantage. 

In  the  arrangement  the  most  poetically  effective  order  has  been 
attempted.  The  English  mind  has  passed  through  phases  of  thought 
and  cultivation  so  various  and  so  opposed  during  these  three  centuries 

1  Alexander  Chalmers  (1759-1834)  collected  the  works  of  a  large  number  of 
British  poets  in  twenty-one  volumes,  published  in  1810. 


PREFACE  xxi 

of  poetry,  that  a  rapid  passage  between  old  and  new,  like  rapid  alter- 
ation of  the  eye's  focus  in  looking  at  the  landscape,  will  always  be 
wearisome  and  hurtful  to  the  sense  of  beauty.  The  poems  have  been 
therefore  distributed  into  books  corresponding,  I,  to  the  ninety  years 
closing  about  1616;  II,  thence  to  1700;  III,  to  1800;  IV,  to  the  half 
century  just  ended.  Or,  looking  at  the  poets  who  more  or  less  give 
each  portion  its  distinctive  character,  they  might  be  called  the  books 
of  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Gray,  and  Wordsworth.  The  volume  in  this 
respect,  so  far  as  the  limitations  of  its  range  allow,  accurately  reflects 
the  natural  growth  and  evolution  of  our  poetry.  A  rigidly  chronologi- 
cal sequence,  however,  rather  fits  a  collection  aiming  at  instruction 
than  at  pleasure,  and  the  wisdom  which  comes  through  pleasure; 
within  each  book  the  pieces  have  therefore  been  arranged  in  grada- 
tions of  feeling  or  subject.  And  it  is  hoped  that  the  contents  of  this 
Anthology  will  thus  be  found  to  present  a  certain  unity,  "  as  episodes," 
in  the  noble  language  of  Shelley,  "  to  that  great  poem  which  all  poets, 
like  the  cooperating  thoughts  of  one  great  mind,  have  built  up  since 
the  beginning  of  the  world." l 

As  he  closes  his  long  survey  the  editor  trusts  he  may  add  without 
egotism  that  he  has  found  the  vague  general  verdict  of  popular  fame 
more  just  than  those  have  thought,  who,  with  too  severe  a  criticism, 
would  confine  judgments  on  poetry  to  "  the  selected  few  of  many 
generations."  Not  many  appear  to  have  gained  reputation  without 
some  gift  or  performance  that,  in  due  degree,  deserved  it ;  and  if  no 
verses  by  certain  writers  who  show  less  strength  than  sweetness,  or 
more  thought  than  mastery  of  expression,  are  printed  in  this  vol- 
ume, it  should  not  be  imagined  that  they  have  been  excluded  without 
much  hesitation  and  regret,  —  far  less  that  they  have  been  slighted. 
Throughout  this  vast  and  pathetic  array  of  singers  now  silent,  few 
have  been  honored  with  the  name  poet,  and  have  not  possessed  a 
skill  in  words,  a  sympathy  with  beauty,  a  tenderness  of  feeling,  or 
seriousness  in  reflection,  which  render  their  works  —  although  never 
perhaps  attaining  that  loftier  and  finer  excellence  here  required  — 
better  worth  reading  than  much  of  what  fills  the  scanty  hours  that 

l  From  "A  Defense  of  Poetry,"  by  the  English  lyrical  poet  Percy  Bysshe 
Shelley.  See  A.  S.  Cook's  edition  (Ginn  and  Company),  p.  23. 


xxii  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

most  men  spare  for  self-improvement,  or  for  pleasure  in  any  of  its 
more  elevated  and  permanent  forms.  And  if  this  be  true  of  even 
mediocre  poetry,  for  how  much  more  are  we  indebted  to  the  best ! 
Like  the  fabled  fountain  of  the  Azores,1  but  with  a  more  various 
power,  the  magic  of  this  art  can  confer  on  each  period  of  life  its 
appropriate  blessing:  on  early  years,  experience;  on  maturity,  calm; 
on  age,  youthfulness.  Poetry  gives  treasures  "  more  golden  than 
gold,"  leading  us  in  higher  and  healthier  ways  than  those  of  the 
world,  and  interpreting  to  us  the  lessons  of  nature.  But  she  speaks 
best  for  herself.  Her  true  accents,  if  the  plan  has  been  executed  with 
success,  may  be  heard  throughout  the  following  pages;  wherever 
the  poets  of  England  are  honored,  wherever  the  dominant  language 
of  the  world  is  spoken,  it  is  hoped  that  they  will  find  fit  audience. 
1861 

Some  poems,  especially  in  Book  I,  have  been  added,  —  either  on 
better  acquaintance,  in  deference  to  critical  suggestions,  or  unknown 
to  the  editor  when  first  gathering  his  harvest.  For  aid  in  these 
after-gleanings  he  is  specially  indebted  to  the  excellent  reprints  of 
rare  early  verse  given  us  by  Dr.  Hannah,  Dr.  Grosart,  Mr.  Arber, 
Mr.  Bullen,2  arid  others;  and  (in  regard  to  the  additions  of  1883)  to 
the  advice  of  that  distinguished  friend,  by  whom  the  final  choice  has 
been  so  largely  guided.8  The  text  has  also  been  carefully  revised 
from  authoritative  sources.  It  has  still  seemed  best,  for  many  reasons, 
to  retain  the  original  limit  by  which  the  selection  was  confined  to 
those  then  no  longer  living.  But  the  editor  hopes  that,  so  far  as  in 
him  lies,  a  complete  and  definitive  collection  of  our  best  lyrics,  to 
the  central  year  of  this  fast-closing  century,  is  now  offered. 

1883-1890-1891  [PALGRAVE] 

1  The  editors  have  been  unable  to  locate  this  reference. 

2  Noted  English  scholars  and  anthologists,  the  first  two  of  whom  died  be* 
fore  1911. 

3  Lord  Tennyson. 


trepov 


Sitting  in  the  meadow  he  gathered  spoil  of  flowers, 
plucking  one  after  another,  with  happy  heart. 

Euripides,  Fragment  7  54 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

BOOK  FIRST 


The  Elizabethan  poetry,  as  it  is  rather  vaguely  termed,  forms  the  substance 
of  this  Book,  which  contains  pieces  from  Wyat,  under  Henry  VII  I,  to  Shakespeare 
midway  through  the  reign  of  James  I,  and  Drummond,  who  carried  on  the  early 
manner  to  a  still  later  period.  There  is  here  a  wide  range  of  style,  —  from 
simplicity  expressed  in  a  language  hardly  yet  broken-in  to  verse,  through  the 
pastoral  fancies  and  Italian  conceits  of  the  strictly  Elizabethan  time,  to  the 
passionate  reality  of  Shakespeare ;  yet  a  general  uniformity  of  tone  prevails. 
Few  readers  can  fail  to  observe  the  natural  sweetness  of  the  verse,  the  single- 
hearted  straightforwardness  of  the  thoughts ;  nor  less,  the  limitation  of  subject 
to  the  many  phases  of  one  passion,  which  then  characterized  our  lyrical  poetry, 
unless  when,  as  in  especial  with  Shakespeare,  the  «  purple  light  of  love  "  *  is 
tempered  by  a  spirit  of  sterner  reflection.  For  the  didactic  verse  of  the  century, 
although  lyrical  in  form,  yet  very  rarely  rises  to  the  pervading  emotion,  the 
golden  cadence,  proper  to  the  lyric. 

It  should  be  observed  that  this  and  the  following  summaries  apply  in  the 
main  to  the  collection  here  presented,  in  which  (besides  its  restriction  to  lyrical 
poetry)  a  strictly  representative  or  historical  anthology  has  not  been  aimed  at. 
Great  excellence,  in  human  art  as  in  human  character,  has  from  the  beginning  of 
things  been  even  more  uniform  than  mediocrity,  by  virtue  of  the  closeness  of  its 
approach  to  nature ;  and  so  far  as  the  standard  of  excellence  kept  in  view  has 
been  attained  in  this  volume,  a  comparative  absence  of  extreme  contemporary 
phases  in  style,  a  similarity  of  tone  and  manner,  will  be  found  throughout,  — 
something  neither  modern  nor  ancient,  but  true  and  speaking  to  the  heart  of 
man  alike  throughout  all  ages. — Transferred  from  Palgrave's  Notes. 


I 
SPRING 

Spring,  the  sweet  Spring,  is  the  year's  pleasant  king ; 
Then  blooms  each  thing,  then  maids  dance  in  a  ring, 
Cold  doth  not  sting,  the  pretty  birds  do  sing, 
Cuckoo,  jug-jug,  pu-we,  to-witta-woo ! 

1  For  this  phrase  see  infra,  p.  171,  Gray's  "Progress  of  Poesy." 

I 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  palm  and  may  make  country  houses  gay, 
Lambs  frisk  and  play,  the  shepherds  pipe  all  day, 
And  we  hear  aye  birds  tune  this  merry  lay, 
Cuckoo,  jug-jug,  pu-we,  to-witta-woo. 

The  fields  breathe  sweet,  the  daisies  kiss  our  feet,  5 

Young  lovers  meet,  old  wives  a-sunning  sit, 
In  every  street  these  tunes  our  ears  do  greet, 
Cuckoo,  jug-jug,  pu-we,  to-witta-woo ! 
Spring !  the  sweet  Spring ! 

T.  Nash 

II 
THE  FAIRY  LIFE 

I 

Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  1 :  10 

In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie ; 

There  I  couch,  when  owls  do  cry : 

On  the  bat's  back  I  do  fly 

After  summer  merrily. 

Merrily,  merrily,  shall  I  live  now,  15 

Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough ! 


2 
Come  unto  these  yellow  sands, 

And  then  take  hands : 
Courtsied  when  you  have,  and  kiss'd 

The  wild  waves  whist,  20 

Foot  it  featly  here  and  there ; 
And,  sweet  Sprites,  the  burthen  bear. 
Hark,  hark ! 

Bow-bow. 

The  watch-dogs  bark :  25 

Bow-wow. 


BOOK  FIRST  3 

Hark,  hark !  I  hear 
The  strain  of  strutting  chanticleer 
Cry,  Cock-a-diddle-dow ! 

W.  Shakespeare 

IV 
SUMMONS  TO  LOVE 

Phcebus,  arise ! 

And  paint  the  sable  skies  5 

With  azure,  white,  and  red : 

Rouse  Memnon's  mother  from  her  Tithon's  bed 

That  she  may  thy  career  with  roses  spread : 

The  nightingales  thy  coming  each-where  sing : 

Make  an  eternal  Spring  !  10 

Give  life  to  this  dark  world  which  lieth  dead ; 

Spread  forth  thy  golden  hair 

In  larger  locks  than  thou  wast  wont  before, 

And  emperor-like  decore 

With  diadem  of  pearl  thy  temples  fair :  1 5 

Chase  hence  the  ugly  night 

Which  serves  but  to  make  dear  thy  glorious  light. 

—  This  is  that  happy  morn, 

That  day,  long-wished  day 

Of  all  my  life  so  dark,  20 

(If  cruel  stars  have  not  my  ruin  sworn 

And  fates  my  hopes  betray), 

Which,  purely  white,  deserves 

An  everlasting  diamond  should  it  mark. 

This  is  the  morn  should  bring  unto  this  grove  25 

My  Love,  to  hear  and  recompense  my  love. 

Fair  King,  who  all  preserves, 

But  show  thy  blushing  beams, 

And  thou  two  sweeter  eyes 

Shalt  see  than  those  which  by  Pendus'  streams  30 

Did  once  thy  heart  surprise. 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Now,  Flora,  deck  thyself  in  fairest  guise : 

If  that  ye  winds  would  hear 

A  voice  surpassing  far  Amphion's  lyre, 

Your  furious  chiding  stay ; 

Let  Zephyr  only  breathe,  5 

And  with  her  tresses  play. 

—  The  winds  all  silent  are, 

And  Phoebus  in  his  chair 

Ensaffroning  sea  and  air 

Makes  vanish  every  star :  10 

Night  like  a  drunkard  reels 

Beyond  the  hills,  to  shun  his  flaming  wheels : 

The  fields  with  flowers  are  deck'd  in  every  hue, 

The  clouds  with  orient  gold  spangle  their  blue ; 

Here  is  the  pleasant  place  —  15 

And  nothing  wanting  is,  save  She,  alas ! 

Wl  Drummond 

of  Hwwtkornden 

V 

TIME  AND  LOVE 
I 

When  I  have  seen  by  Time's  fell  hand  defaced 

The  rich  proud  cost  of  outworn  buried  age  ; 

When  sometime  lofty  towers  I  see  down-razed, 

And  brass  eternal  slave  to  mortal  rage ;  20 

When  I  have  seen  the  hungry  ocean  gain 
Advantage  on  the  kingdom  of  the  shore, 
And  the  firm  soil  win  of  the  watery  main, 
Increasing  store  with  loss,  and  loss  with  store ; 

When  I  have  seen  such  interchange  of  state,  25 

Or  state  itself  confounded  to  decay, 
Ruin  hath  taught  me  thus  to  ruminate  — 
That  Time  will  come  and  take  my  Love  away : 


BOOK  FIRST  5 

This  thought  is  as  a  death,  which  cannot  choose 
But  weep  to  have  that  which  it  fears  to  lose. 

W.  Shakespeare 

VI 

2 

Since  brass,  nor  stone,  nor  earth,  nor  boundless  sea, 
But  sad  mortality  o'ersways  their  power, 
How  with  this  rage  shall  beauty  hold  a  plea,  5 

Whose  action  is  no  stronger  than  a  flower  ? 

O  how  shall  summer's  honey  breath  hold  out 

Against  the  wreckful  siege  of  battering  days, 

When  rocks  impregnable  are  not  so  stout 

Nor  gates  of  steel  so  strong,  but  time  decays  ?  10 

O  fearful  meditation  !  where,  alack ! 
Shall  Time's  best  jewel  from  Time's  chest  lie  hid? 
Or  what  strong  hand  can  hold  his  swift  foot  back, 
Or  who  his  spoil  of  beauty  can  forbid  ? 

O  !  none,  unless  this  miracle  have  might,  1 5 

That  in  black  ink  my  love  may  still  shine  bright. 

W.  Shakespeare 

VII 
THE  PASSIONATE  SHEPHERD  TO  HIS  LOVE 

Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  Love, 

And  we  will  all  the  pleasures  prove 

That  hills  and  valleys,  dale  and  field. 

And  all  the  craggy  mountains  yield.  20 

There  will  we  sit  upon  the  rocks 
And  see  the  shepherds  feed  their  flocks, 
By  shallow  rivers,  to  whose  falls 
Melodious  birds  sing  madrigals. 

There  will  I  make  thee  beds  of  roses  25 

And  a  thousand  fragrant  posies, 


6  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

A  cap  of  flowers,  and  a  kirtle 
Embroider'd  all  with  leaves  of  myrtle. 

A  gown  made  of  the  finest  wool, 

Which  from  our  pretty  lambs  we  pull, 

Fair  line'd  slippers  for  the  cold,  5 

With  buckles  of  the  purest  gold. 

A  belt  of  straw  and  ivy  buds 

With  coral  clasps  and  amber  studs : 

And  if  these  pleasures  may  thee  move, 

Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  Love.  10 

Thy  silver  dishes  for  thy  meat 
As  precious  as  the  gods  do  eat, 
Shall  on  an  ivory  table  be 
Prepared  each  day  for  thee  and  me. 

The  shepherd  swains  shall  dance  and  sing  15 

For  thy  delight  each  May-morning : 
If  these  delights  thy  mind  may  move, 
Then  live  with  me  and  be  my  Love. 

C.  Marlowe 

VIII 
OMNIA   VINCITi 

Fain  would  I  change  that  note 

To  which  fond  Love  hath  charm'd  me  20 

Long  long  to  sing  by  rote, 

Fancying  that  that  harm'd  me : 

Yet  when  this  thought  doth  come 

"  Love  is  the  perfect  sum 

Of  all  delight,"  25 

I  have  no  other  choice 
Either  for  pen  or  voice 

To  sing  or  write. 

1  From  a  Jacobean  songbook,  Tobias  Hume's  «  The  First  Part  of  Airs  French, 
Polish,  and  others  together,"  1605. 


BOOK  FIRST  y 

0  Love !  they  wrong  thee  much 
That  say  thy  sweet  is  bitter, 
When  thy  rich  fruit  is  such 

As  nothing  can  be  sweeter. 

Fair  house  of  joy  and  bliss,  5 

Where  truest  pleasure  is, 
I  do  adore  thee : 

1  know  thee  what  thou  art, 
I  serve  thee  with  my  heart, 

And  fall  before  thee !  10 

Anon. 

DC 
A   MADRIGAL 

Crabbed  Age  and  Youth 
Cannot  live  together : 
Youth  is  full  of  pleasance, 
Age  is  full  of  care ; 

Youth  like  summer  morn,  15 

Age  like  winter  weather, 
Youth  like  summer  brave, 
Age  like  winter  bare : 
Youth  is  full  of  sport, 

Age's  breath  is  short,  20 

Youth  is  nimble,  Age  is  lame : 
Youth  is  hot  and  bold, 
Age  is  weak  and  cold, 
Youth  is  wild,  and  Age  is  tame :  — 
Age,  I  do  abhor  thee,  25 

Youth,  I  do  adore  thee ; 
O  !  my  Love,  my  Love  is  young ! 
Age,  I  do  defy  thee  — 
O  sweet  shepherd,  hie  thee, 

For  methinks  thou  stay'st  too  long.  30 

W.  Shakespeart 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 


Under  the  greenwood  tree 
Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 
And  turn  his  merry  note 
Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat  — 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither !  5 

Here  shall  he  see 
No  enemy 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Who  doth  ambition  shun 

And  loves  to  live  i'  the  sun,  10 

Seeking  the  food  he  eats 
And  pleased  with  what  he  gets  — 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither ! 
Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy  15 

But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

W.  Shakespeare 

XI 

It  was  a  lover  and  his  lass 

With  a  hey  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino ! 
That  o'er  the  green  cornfield  did  pass 
In  the  springtime,  the  only  pretty  ring  time,  20 

When  birds  do  sing  hey  ding  a  ding : 

Sweet  lovers  love  the  Spring. 

Between  the  acres  of  the  rye 

These  pretty  country  folks  would  lie : 

This  carol  they  began  that  hour,  25 

How  that  life  was  but  a  flower : 

And  therefore  take  the  present  time 

With  a  hey  and  a  ho  and  a  hey  nonino  ! 
For  love  is  crowned  with  the  prime 
In  springtime,  the  only  pretty  ring  time,  30 


BOOK  FIRST  9 

When  birds  do  sing  hey  ding  a  ding : 
Sweet  lovers  love  the  Spring. 

W.  Shakespeare 

XII 
PRESENT   IN   ABSENCE 

Absence,  hear  thou  this  protestation 

Against  thy  strength, 

Distance,  and  length ;  5 

Do  what  thou  canst  for  alteration : 

For  hearts  of  truest  mettle 
Absence  doth  join,  and  Time  doth  settle. 

Who  loves  a  mistress  of  such  quality, 

His  mind  hath  found  10 

Affection's  ground 
Beyond  time,  place,  and  mortality. 

To  hearts  that  cannot  vary 
Absence  is  present,  Time  doth  tarry. 

By  absence  this  good  means  I  gain,  15 

That  I  can  catch  her, 
Where  none  can  match  her, 
In  some  close  corner  of  my  brain : 

There  I  embrace  and  kiss  her ; 

And  so  I  both  enjoy  and  miss  her.  20 

J.  Donne 

XIII 
VIA  AMORIS 

Highway,  since  you  my  chief  Parnassus  be, 
And  that  my  Muse,  to  some  ears  not  unsweet, 
Tempers  her  words  to  trampling  horses'  feet 
More  oft  than  to  a  chamber  melody, — 

Now,  blessed  you  bear  onward  blesse'd  me  25 

To  her,  where  I  my  heart,  safe-left,  shall  meet ; 


c 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

My  Muse  and  I  must  you  of  duty  greet 
With  thanks  and  wishes,  wishing  thankfully ; 

Be  you  still  fair,  honor'd  by  public  heed ; 

By  no  encroachment  wrong'd,  nor  time  forgot ; 

Nor  blamed  for  blood,  nor  shamed  for  sinful  deed ;          5 

And  that  you  know  I  envy  you  no  lot 

Of  highest  wish,  I  wish  you  so  much  bliss,  — 
Hundreds  of  years  you  Stella's  feet  may  kiss ! 

Sir  P.  Sidney 

XIV 
ABSENCE 

Being  your  slave,  what  should  I  do  but  tend 

Upon  the  hours  and  times  of  your  desire?  10 

I  have  no  precious  time  at  all  to  spend 

Nor  services  to  do,  till  you  require : 

Nor  dare  I  chide  the  world-without-end  hour 

Whilst  I,  my  sovereign,  watch  the  clock  for  you, 

Nor  think  the  bitterness  of  absence  sour  1 5 

When  you  have  bid  your  servant  once  adieu : 

Nor  dare  I  question  with  my  jealous  thought 

Where  you  may  be,  or  your  affairs  suppose, 

But  like  a  sad  slave,  stay  and  think  of  nought 

Save,  where  you  are,  how  happy  you  make  those ;  —      20 

So  true  a  fool  is  love,  that  in  your  will 
Though  you  do  anything,  he  thinks  no  ill. 

W.  Shakespeare 
XV 

How  like  a  winter  hath  my  absence  been 

From  Thee,  the  pleasure  of  the  fleeting  year ! 

What  freezings  have  I  felt,  what  dark  days  seen,  25 

What  old  December's  bareness  everywhere ! 


BOOK  FIRST  ii 

And  yet  this  time  removed  was  summer's  time : 
The  teeming  autumn,  big  with  rich  increase, 
Bearing  the  wanton  burden  of  the  prime 
Like  widow'd  wombs  after  their  lords'  decease : 

Yet  this  abundant  issue  seem'd  to  me  5 

But  hope  of  orphans,  and  unfather'd  fruit ; 
For  summer  and  his  pleasures  wait  on  thee, 
And,  thou  away,  the  very  birds  are  mute ; 

Or  if  they  sing,  't  is  with  so  dull  a  cheer, 
That  leaves  look  pale,  dreading  the  winter 's  near.  10 

W.  Shakespeare 

XVI 

A  CONSOLATION 

When  in  disgrace  with  fortune  and  men's  eyes 
I  all  alone  beweep  my  outcast  state, 
And  trouble  deaf  heaven  with  my  bootless  cries, 
And  look  upon  myself,  and  curse  my  fate ; 

Wishing  me  like  to  one  more  rich  in  hope,  15 

Featured  like  him,  like  him  with  friends  possest, 
Desiring  this  man's  art,  and  that  man's  scope, 
With  what  I  most  enjoy  contented  least ; 

Yet  in  these  thoughts  myself  almost  despising, 

Haply  I  think  on  Thee  —  and  then  my  state,  20 

Like  to  the  lark  at  break  of  day  arising 

From  sullen  earth,  sings  hymns  at  heaven's  gate ; 

For  thy  sweet  love  remember'd,  such  wealth  brings 
That  then  I  scorn  to  change  my  state  with  kings. 

W.  Shakespeare 


12  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

XVII 

THE  UNCHANGEABLE 

O  never  say  that  I  was  false  of  heart, 
Though  absence  seem'd  my  flame  to  qualify : 
As  easy  might  I  from  myself  depart 
As  from  my  soul,  which  in  thy  breast  doth  lie ; 

That  is  my  home  of  love ;  if  I  have  ranged,  5 

Like  him  that  travels,  I  return  again, 

Just  to  the  time,  not  with  the  time  exchanged, 

So  that  myself  bring  water  for  my  stain. 

Never  believe,  though  in  my  nature  reign'd 

All  frailties  that  besiege  all  kinds  of  blood,  10 

That  it  could  so  preposterously  be  stain'd 

To  leave  for  nothing  all  thy  sum  of  good : 

For  nothing  this  wide  universe  I  call, 
Save  thou,  my  rose :  in  it  thou  art  my  all. 

W.  Shakespeare 

XVIII 

To  me,  fair  Friend,  you  never  can  be  old,  1 5 

For  as  you  were  when  first  your  eye  I  eyed 
Such  seems  your  beauty  still.    Three  winters  cold 
Have  from  the  forests  shook  three  summers'  pride ; 

Three  beauteous  springs  to  yellow  autumn  turn'd 

In  process  of  the  seasons  have  I  seen,  20 

Three  April  perfumes  in  three  hot  Junes  burn'd, 

Since  first  I,  saw  you  fresh,  which  yet  are  green. 

Ah !  yet  doth  beauty,  like  a  dial  hand, 

Steal  from  his  figure,  and  no  pace  perceived ; 

So  your  sweet  hue,  which  methinks  still  doth  stand,         25 

Hath  motion,  and  mine  eye  may  be  deceived : 

For  fear  of  which,  hear  this,  thou  age  unbred,  — 
Ere  you  were  born,  was  beauty's  summer  dead. 

W.  Shakespeare 


BOOK  FIRST  13 

XIX 
ROSALINE 

Like  to  the  clear  in  highest  sphere 
Where  all  imperial  glory  shines, 
Of  selfsame  color  is  her  hair 
Whether  unfolded,  or  in  twines : 

Heigh  ho,  fair  Rosaline !  5 

Her  eyes  are  sapphires  set  in  snow, 
Resembling  heaven  by  every  wink ; 
The  Gods  do  fear  whenas  they  glow, 
And  I  do  tremble  when  I  think 

Heigh  ho,  would  she  were  mine !  10 

Her  cheeks  are  like  the  blushing  cloud 
That  beautifies  Aurora's  face, 
Or  like  the  silver  crimson  shroud 
That  Phoebus'  smiling  looks  doth  grace ; 

Heigh  ho,  fair  Rosaline!  15 

Her  lips  are  like  two  budded  roses 
Whom  ranks  of  lilies  neighbor  nigh, 
Within  which  bounds  she  balm  encloses 
Apt  to  entice  a  deity : 

Heigh  ho,  would  she  were  mine !  20 

Her  neck  is  like  a  stately  tower 
Where  Love  himself  imprison'd  lies, 
To  watch  for  glances  every  hour 
From  her  divine  and  sacred  eyes : 

Heigh  ho,  for  Rosaline !  25 

Her  paps  are  centers  of  delight, 
Her  breasts  are  orbs  of  heavenly  frame, 
Where  Nature  molds  the  dew  of  light 
To  feed  perfection  with  the  same : 

Heigh  ho,  would  she  were  mine !  30 

With  orient  pearl,  with  ruby  red, 
With  marble  white,  with  sapphire  blue 


14  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Her  body  every  way  is  fed, 

Yet  soft  in  touch  and  sweet  in  view : 

Heigh  ho,  fair  Rosaline ! 
Nature  herself  her  shape  admires ; 
The  Gods  are  wounded  in  her  sight ;  5 

And  Love  forsakes  his  heavenly  fires 
And  at  her  eyes  his  brand  doth  light : 

Heigh  ho,  would  she  were  mine ! 

Then  muse  not,  Nymphs,  though  I  bemoan 

The  absence  of  fair  Rosaline,  10 

Since  for  a  fair  there 's  fairer  none, 

Nor  for  her  virtues  so  divine : 

Heigh  ho,  fair  Rosaline ! 
Heigh  ho,  my  heart !  would  God  that  she  were  mine ! 

T.  Lodge 

XX 

COLIN 

Beauty  sat  bathing  by  a  spring  1 5 

Where  fairest  shades  did  hide  her ; 
The  winds  blew  calm,  the  birds  did  sing, 

The  cool  streams  ran  beside  her. 
My  wanton  thoughts  enticed  mine  eye 

To  see  what  was  forbidden :  20 

But  better  memory  said,  fie ! 

So  vain  desire  was  chidden  :  — 

Hey  nonny  nonny  O  ! 
Hey  nonny  nonny ! 

Into  a  slumber  then  I  fell,  25 

When  fond  imagination 
Seeme*d  to  see,  but  could  not  tell 

Her  feature  or  her  fashion. 
But  ev'n  as  babes  in  dreams  do  smile, 

And  sometimes  fall  a-weeping,  30 


BOOK  FIRST  15 

So  I  awaked,  as  wise  this  while 
As  when  I  fell  a-sleeping :  — 

Hey  nonny  nonny  O  ! 
Hey  nonny  nonny ! 

The  Shepherd  Tonie 

XXI 

A  PICTURE1 

Sweet  Love,  if  thou  wilt  gain  a  monarch's  glory,  5 

Subdue  her  heart,  who  makes  me  glad  and  sorry : 

Out  of  thy  golden  quiver 

Take  thou  thy  strongest  arrow 

That  will  through  bone  and  marrow, 
And  me  and  thee  of  grief  and  fear  deliver :  —  10 

But  come  behind,  for  if  she  look  upon  thee, 
Alas !  poor  Love !  then  thou  art  woe-begone  thee ! 

Anon. 

XXII 
A  SONG  FOR  MUSIC2 

Weep  you  no  more,  sad  fountains :  — 

What  need  you  flow  so  fast? 

Look  how  the  snowy  mountains  15 

Heaven's  sun  doth  gently  waste ! 
But  my  Sun's  heavenly  eyes 
View  not  your  weeping, 
That  now  lies  sleeping 

Softly,  now  softly  lies,  20 

Sleeping. 

Sleep  is  a  reconciling, 

A  rest  that  peace  begets :  — 
Doth  not  the  sun  rise  smiling, 

When  fair  at  even  he  sets  ?  25 

1  From  John  Wilbye's  "  First  Set  of  English  Madrigals,"  1598. 

2  trom  John  Dowland's  "Third  and  Last  Book  of  Songs  or  Airs,"  1603. 


i6  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

—  Rest  you,  then,  rest,  sad  eyes ! 
Melt  not  in  weeping ! 
While  She  lies  sleeping 
Softly,  now  softly  lies, 

Sleeping !  5 

^  Anon, 

XXIII 
TO  HIS  LOVE 

Shall  I  compare  thee  to  a  summer's  day? 
Thou  art  more  lovely  and  more  temperate : 
Rough  winds  do  shake  the  darling  buds  of  May, 
And  summer's  lease  hath  all  too  short  a  date : 

Sometime  too  hot  the  eye  of  heaven  shines,  10 

And  often  is  his  gold  complexion  dimm'd : 

And  every  fair  from  fair  sometime  declines, 

By  chance,  or  nature's  changing  course,  untrimm'd. 

But  thy  eternal  summer  shall  not  fade 
Nor  lose  possession  of  that  fair  thou  owest ;  1 3 

Nor  shall  Death  brag  thou  wanderest  in  his  shade, 
When  in  eternal  lines  to  time  thou  growest :  — 

So  long  as  men  can  breathe,  or  eyes  can  see, 
So  long  lives  this,  and  this  gives  life  to  thee. 

W.  Shakespeare 

XXIV 
TO  HIS  LOVE 

When  in  the  chronicle  of  wasted  time  20 

I  see  descriptions  of  the  fairest  wights, 
And  beauty  making  beautiful  old  rhyme 
In  praise  of  ladies  dead,  and  lovely  knights : 

Then  in  the  blazon  of  sweet  beauty's  best 

Of  hand,  of  foot,  of  lip,  of  eye,  of  brow,  25 


BOOK  FIRST  17 

I  see  their  antique  pen  would  have  exprest 
Ev'n  such  a  beauty  as  you  master  now. 

So  all  their  praises  are  but  prophecies 

Of  this  our  time,  all,  you  prefiguring ; 

And  for  they  look'd  but  with  divining  eyes,  5 

They  had  not  skill  enough  your  worth  to  sing : 

For  we,  which  now  behold  these  present  days, 
Have  eyes  to  wonder,  but  lack  tongues  to  praise. 

W.  Shakespeare 
XXV 

BASIA 

Turn  back,  you  wanton  flyer, 

And  answer  my  desire  10 

With  mutual  greeting. 
Yet  bend  a  little  nearer,  — 
True  beauty  still  shines  clearer 

In  closer  meeting ! 

Hearts  with  hearts  delighted  15 

Should  strive  to  be  united, 
Each  other's  arms  with  arms  enchaining,  — 

Hearts  with  a  thought, 
Rosy  lips  with  a  kiss  still  entertaining. 

What  harvest  half  so  sweet  is  20 

As  still  to  reap  the  kisses 

Grown  ripe  in  sowing? 
And  straight  to  be  receiver 
Of  that  which  thou  art  giver, 

Rich  in  bestowing?  25 

There  is  no  strict  observing 
Of  times'  or  seasons'  swerving, 
There  is  ever  one  fresh  spring  abiding ;  — 
Then  what  we  sow  with  our  lips 
Let  us  reap,  love's  gains  dividing.  30 

T.  Campion 


i8  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

XXVI 

ADVICE  TO  A  GIRL 

Never  love  unless  you  can 

Bear  with  all  the  faults  of  man ! 

Men  sometimes  will  jealous  be 

Though  but  little  cause  they  see, 

And  hang  the  head  as  discontent,  5 

And  speak  what  straight  they  will  repent. 

Men,  that  but  one  Saint  adore, 

Make  a  show  of  love  to  more ; 

Beauty  must  be  scorn'd  in  none, 

Though  but  truly  served  in  one :  10 

For  what  is  courtship  but  disguise  ? 

True  hearts  may  have  dissembling  eyes. 

Men,  when  their  affairs  require, 

Must  awhile  themselves  retire ; 

Sometimes  hunt,  and  sometimes  hawk,  15 

And  not  ever  sit  and  talk :  — 

If  these  and  such-like  you  can  bear, 

Then  like,  and  love,  and  never  fear ! 

T.  Campion 

XXVII 
LOVE'S  PERJURIES 

On  a  day,  alack  the  day ! 

Love,  whose  month  is  ever  May,  20 

Spied  a  blossom  passing  fair 

Playing  in  the  wanton  air : 

Through  the  velvet  leaves  the  wind, 

All  unseen,  'gan  passage  find ; 

That  the  lover,  sick  to  death,  25 

Wish'd  himself  the  heaven's  breath. 

Air,  quoth  he,  thy  cheeks  may  blow ; 

Air,  would  I  might  triumph  so ! 


BOOK  FIRST  19 

But,  alack,  my  hand  is  sworn 
Ne'er  to  pluck  thee  from  thy  thorn : 
Vow,  alack,  for  youth  unmeet ; 
Youth  so  apt  to  pluck  a  sweet. 

Do  not  call  it  sin  in  me  5 

That  I  am  forsworn  for  thee : 
Thou  for  whom  Jove  would  swear 
Juno  but  an  Ethiope  were, 
And  deny  himself  for  Jove, 

Turning  mortal  for  thy  love.  10 

W.  Shakespeare 

XXVIII 
A  SUPPLICATION 

Forget  not  yet  the  tried  intent 
Of  such  a  truth  as  I  have  meant ; 
My  great  travail  so  gladly  spent, 

Forget  not  yet ! 

Forget  not  yet  when  first  began  15 

The  weary  life  ye  know,  since  whan 
The  suit,  the  service  none  tell  can ; 
Forget  not  yet ! 

Forget  not  yet  the  great  assays, 

The  cruel  wrong,  the  scornful  ways,  20 

The  painful  patience  in  delays, 

Forget  not  yet ! 

Forget  not !   O,  forget  not  this, 
How  long  ago  hath  been,  and  is 
The  mind  that  never  meant  amiss  —  25 

Forget  not  yet ! 

Forget  not  then  thine  own  approved 
The  which  so  long  hath  thee  so  loved, 
Whose  steadfast  faith  yet  never  moved  — 

Forget  not  this !  30 

Sir  T.  Wyat 


20  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

XXIX 
TO  AURORA 

O  if  thou  knew'st  how  thou  thyself  dost  harm, 
And  dost  prejudge  thy  bliss,  and  spoil  my  rest ; 
Then  thou  would'st  melt  the  ice  out  of  thy  breast 
And  thy  relenting  heart  would  kindly  warm. 

O  if  thy  pride  did  not  our  joys  control,  5 

What  world  of  loving  wonders  should'st  thou  see ! 
For  if  I  saw  thee  once  transform'd  in  me, 
Then  in  thy  bosom  I  would  pour  my  soul ; 

Then  all  my  thoughts  should  in  thy  visage  shine, 

And  if  that  aught  mischanced  thou  should'st  not  moan    10 

Nor  bear  the  burden  of  thy  griefs  alone ; 

No,  I  would  have  my  share  in  what  were  thine : 

And  whilst  we  thus  should  make  our  sorrows  one, 
This  happy  harmony  would  make  them  none. 

W.  Alexander ) 

Earl  of  Sterline 
XXX 

IN  LACRIMAS1 

I  saw  my  Lady  weep,  1 5 

And  Sorrow  proud  to  be  advanced  so 
In  those  fair  eyes  where  all  perfections  keep. 

Her  face  was  full  of  woe, 

But  such  a  woe  (believe  me)  as  wins  more  hearts 
Than  Mirth  can  do  with  her  enticing  parts.  20 

Sorrow  was  there  made  fair, 
And  Passion,  wise ;  Tears,  a  delightful  thing ; 
Silence,  beyond  all  speech,  a  wisdom  rare  : 

She  made  her  sighs  to  sing, 

And  all  things  with  so  sweet  a  sadness  move  25 

As  made  my  heart  at  once  both  grieve  and  love. 

1  From  John  Dowland's  "  Second  Book  of  Songs  or  Airs,"  1600. 


BOOK  FIRST  21 

O  fairer  than  aught  else 

The  world  can  show,  leave  off  in  time  to  grieve ! 
Enough,  enough :  your  joyful  look  excels : 

Tears  kill  the  heart,  believe. 

O  strive  not  to  be  excellent  in  woe,  5 

Which  only  breeds  your  beauty's  overthrow. 

Anon. 

XXXI 

TRUE  LOVE 

Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minds 

Admit  impediments.    Love  is  not  love 

Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds, 

Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove :  —  10 

0  no !  it  is  an  ever-fixe*d  mark 

That  looks  on  tempests,  and  is  never  shaken ; 

It  is  the  star  to  every  wandering  bark, 

Whose  worth 's  unknown,  although  his  height  be  taken. 

Love 's  not  Timers  fool,  though  rosy  lips  and  cheeks       1 5 
Within  his  bending  sickle's  compass  come ; 
Love  alters  not  with  his  brief  hours  and  weeks, 
But  bears  it  out  ev'n  to  the  edge  of  doom :  — 

If  this  be  error,  and  upon  me  proved, 

1  never  writ,  nor  no  man  ever  loved.  20 

W.  Shakespeare 

XXXII 
A  DITTY 

My  true-love  hath  my  heart,  and  I  have  his, 
By  just  exchange  one  for  another  given : 
I  hold  his  dear,  and  mine  he  cannot  miss, 
There  never  was  a  better  bargain  driven : 

My  true-love  hath  my  heart,  and  I  have  his.  25 


22  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

His  heart  in  me  keeps  him  and  me  in  one, 
My  heart  in  him  his  thoughts  and  senses  guides : 
He  loves  my  heart,  for  once  it  was  his  own, 
I  cherish  his  because  in  me  it  bides : 

My  true-love  hath  my  heart,  and  I  have  his.  5 

Sir  P.  Sidney 

XXXIH 
LOVE'S  INSIGHT  i 

Though  others  may  Her  brow  adore 

Yet  more  must  I,  that  therein  see  far  more 

Than  any  other's  eyes  have  power  to  see : 

She  is  to  me 

More  than  to  any  others  she  can  be !  10 

I  can  discern  more  secret  notes 
That  in  the  margin  of  her  cheeks  Love  quotes, 
Than  any  else  besides  have  art  to  read : 

No  looks  proceed 

From  those  fair  eyes  but  to  me  wonder  breed.  15 

Anon. 

XXXIV 
LOVE'S  OMNIPRESENCE 

Were  I  as  base  as  is  the  lowly  plain, 
And  you,  my  Love,  as  high  as  heaven  above, 
Yet  should  the  thoughts  of  me  your  humble  swain 
Ascend  to  heaven,  in  honor  of  my  Love. 

Were  I  as  high  as  heaven  above  the  plain,  20 

And  you,  my  Love,  as  humble  and  as  low 
As  are  the  deepest  bottoms  of  the  main, 
Whereso'er  you  were,  with  you  my  love  should  go. 

1  From  John  Daniel's  «  Songs  for  the  Lute,  Viol,  &  Voice,"  1606.  This  is  a 
portion  of  a  song  beginning,  "  Let  not  Chloris  think,  because  She  hath  envas- 
sel'd  me."  John  Daniel  was  the  brother  of  Samuel  Daniel,  and  it  is  not  impos- 
sible that  the  latter  wrote  these  lines. 


BOOK  FIRST  23 

Were  you  the  earth,  dear  Love,  and  I  the  skies, 

My  love  should  shine  on  you  like  to  the  sun, 

And  look  upon  you  with  ten  thousand  eyes 

Till  heaven  wax'd  blind,  and  till  the  world  were  done. 

Whereso'er  I  am,  below,  or  else  above  you,  5 

Whereso'er  you  are,  my  heart  shall  truly  love  you. 

J.  Sylvester 

XXXV 
CARPE  DIEM 

O  Mistress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming? 
O  stay  and  hear !  your  true-love 's  coming 

That  can  sing  both  high  and  low ; 

Trip  no  further,  pretty  sweeting,  10 

Journeys  end  in  lovers  meeting  — 

Every  wise  man's  son  doth  know. 

What  is  love  ?  't  is  not  hereafter ; 
Present  mirth  hath  present  laughter ; 

What 's  to  come  is  still  unsure :  1 5 

In  delay  there  lies  no  plenty,  — 
Then  come  kiss  me,  Sweet-and-twenty, 

Youth  's  a  stuff  will  not  endure. 

W.  Shakespeare 

XXXVI 
AN  HONEST  AUTOLYCUS1 

Fine  knacks  for  ladies,  cheap,  choice,  brave,  and  new, 

Good  pennyworths,  —  but  money  cannot  move :  20 

I  keep  a  fair  but  for  the  Fair  to  view ; 
A  beggar  may  be  liberal  of  love. 

Though  all  my  wares  be  trash,  the  heart  is  true  — 
The  heart  is  true. 

1  From  John  Dowland's  "  Second  Book  of  Songs  or  Airs,"  1600. 


24  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Great  gifts  are  guiles  and  look  for  gifts  again ; 
My  trifles  come  as  treasures  from  my  mind ; 
It  is  a  precious  jewel  to  be  plain ; 

Sometimes  in  shell  the  orient'st  pearls  we  find ;  — 
Of  others  take  a  sheaf,  of  me  a  grain !  5 

Of  me  a  grain ! 

Anon. 

XXXVII 

WINTER 

When  icicles  hang  by  the  wall 

And  Dick  the  shepherd  blows  his  nail, 

And  Tom  bears  logs  into  the  hall, 

And  milk  comes  frozen  home  in  pail ;  10 

When  blood  is  nipt,  and  ways  be  foul, 

Then  nightly  sings  the  staring  owl 
Tu-whit ! 

To-who !  A  merry  note ! 

While  greasy  Joan  doth  keel  the  pot.  15 

When  all  about  the  wind  doth  blow, 
And  coughing  drowns  the  parson's  saw, 

And  birds  sit  brooding  in  the  snow, 
And  Marian's  nose  looks  red  and  raw ; 

When  roasted  crabs  hiss  in  the  bowl  —  20 

Then  nightly  sings  the  staring  owl 
Tu-whit ! 

To-who !  A  merry  note ! 

While  greasy  Joan  doth  keel  the  pot 

W.  Shakespeare 

XXXVIII 

That  time  of  year  thou  may'st  in  me  behold  25 

When  yellow  leaves,  or  none,  or  few,  do  hang 
Upon  those  boughs  which  shake  against  the  cold, 
Bare  ruin'd  choirs,  where  late  the  sweet  birds  sang : 


BOOK  FIRST  25 

In  me  thou  see'st  the  twilight  of  such  day 
As  after  sunset  fadeth  in  the  west, 
Which  by  and  by  black  night  doth  take  away, 
Death's  second  self,  that  seals  up  all  in  rest : 

In  me  thou  see'st  the  glowing  of  such  fire,  5 

That  on  the  ashes  of  his  youth  doth  lie 
As  the  deathbed  whereon  it  must  expire, 
Consumed  with  that  which  it  was  nourish'd  by : 

—  This  thou  perceiv'st,  which  makes  thy  love  more  strong, 
To  love  that  well  which  thou  must  leave  ere  long.  10 

W.  Shakespeare 


XXXIX 
MEMORY 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought 

I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past, 

I  sigh  the  lack  of  many  a  thing  I  sought, 

And  with  old  woes  new  wail  my  dear  time's  waste ; 

Then  can  I  drown  an  eye,  unused  to  flow,  i 

For  precious  friends  hid  in  death's  dateless  night, 
And  weep  afresh  love's  long-since-cancerd  woe, 
And  moan  the  expense  of  many  a  vanish'd  sight. 

Then  can  I  grieve  at  grievances  foregone, 

And  heavily  from  woe  to  woe  tell  o'er  a 

The  sad  account  of  fore-bemoaned  moan, 

Which  I  new  pay  as  if  not  paid  before : 

—  But  if  the  while  I  think  on  thee,  dear  Friend, 
All  losses  are  restored,  and  sorrows  end. 

W.  Shakespeare 


26  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

XL 
SLEEP 

Come,  Sleep :  O  Sleep !  the  certain  knot  of  peace, 
The  baiting  place  of  wit,  the  balm  of  woe, 
The  poor  man's  wealth,  the  prisoner's  release, 
TrT  indifferent  judge  between  the  high  and  low ; 

With  shield  of  proof  shield  me  from  out  the  prease          5 
Of  those  fierce  darts  Despair  at  me  doth  throw : 

0  make  in  me  those  civil  wars  to  cease ; 

1  will  good  tribute  pay,  if  thou  do  so. 

Take  thou  of  me  smooth  pillows,  sweetest  bed, 

A  chamber  deaf  of  noise  and  blind  of  light,  10 

A  rosy  garland  and  a  weary  head : 

And  if  these  things,  as  being  thine  in  right, 

Move  not  thy  heavy  grace,  thou  shalt  in  me, 
Livelier  than  elsewhere,  Stella's  image  see. 

Sir  P.  Sidney 

XLI 
REVOLUTIONS 

Like  as  the  waves  make  towards  the  pebbled  shore          15 

So  do  our  minutes  hasten  to  their  end ; 

Each  changing  place  with  that  which  goes  before, 

In  sequent  toil  all  forwards  do  contend. 

Nativity,  once  in  the  main  of  light, 

Crawls  to  maturity,  wherewith  being  crown'd,  20 

Crooked  eclipses  'gainst  his  glory  fight, 

And  Time  that  gave,  doth  now  his  gift  confound. 

Time  doth  transfix  the  flourish  set  on  youth, 
And  delves  the  parallels  in  beauty's  brow; 


BOOK  FIRST  27 

Feeds  on  the  rarities  of  nature's  truth, 
And  nothing  stands  but  for  his  scythe  to  mow :  — 
And  yet,  to  times  in  hope,  my  verse  shall  stand 
Praising  Thy  worth,  despite  his  cruel  hand. 

W.  Shakespeart 

XLII 

Farewell !  thou  art  too  dear  for  my  possessing,  5 

And  like  enough  thou  know'st  thy  estimate : 
The  charter  of  thy  worth  gives  thee  releasing ; 
My  bonds  in  thee  are  all  determinate. 

For  how  do  I  hold  thee  but  by  thy  granting  ? 

And  for  that  riches  where  is  my  deserving?  10 

The  cause  of  this  fair  gift  in  me  is  wanting, 

And  so  my  patent  back  again  is  swerving. 

Thyself  thou  gav'st,  thy  own  worth  then  not  knowing, 
Or  me,  to  whom  thou  gav'st  it,  else  mistaking ; 
So  thy  great  gift,  upon  misprision  growing,  15 

Comes  home  again,  on  better  judgment  making. 

Thus  have  I  had  thee  as  a  dream  doth  flatter ; 
In  sleep,  a  king ;  but  waking,  no  such  matter. 

W.  Shakespeare 

XLIII 
THE  LIFE  WITHOUT  PASSION 

They  that  have  power  to  hurt,  and  will  do  none, 
That  do  not  do  the  thing  they  most  do  show,  20 

Who,  moving  others,  are  themselves  as  stone, 
Unmove'd,  cold,  and  to  temptation  slow,  — 

They  rightly  do  inherit  heaven's  graces, 

And  husband  nature's  riches  from  expense ; 

They  are  the  lords  and  owners  of  their  faces,  25 

Others,  but  stewards  of  their  excellence. 


28  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  summer's  flower  is  to  the  summer  sweet, 
Though  to  itself  it  only  live  and  die ; 
But  if  that  flower  with  base  infection  meet, 
The  basest  weed  outbraves  his  dignity : 

For  sweetest  things  turn  sourest  by  their  deeds ;  5 

Lilies  that  fester  smell  far  worse  than  weeds. 

W.  Shakespeare 
XLIV 

THE  LOVER'S  APPEAL 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus  ? 

Say  nay !  say  nay !  for  shame, 

To  save  thee  from  the  blame 

Of  all  my  grief  and  grame.  10 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus? 

Say  nay !  say  nay ! 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus, 

That  hath  loved  thee  so  long 

In  wealth  and  woe  among :  15 

And  is  thy  heart  so  strong 

As  for  to  leave  me  thus  ? 

Say  nay !  say  nay ! 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus, 

That  hath  given  thee  my  heart  20 

Never  for  to  depart 

Neither  for  pain  nor  smart : 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus  ? 

Say  "nay !  say  nay ! 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus,  25 

And  have  no  more  pity 
Of  him  that  loveth  thee? 
Alas  !  thy  cruelty ! 
And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus  ? 
Say  nay !  say  nay !  30 

Sir  T.  Wyat 


BOOK  FIRST  29 

XLV 
THE  NIGHTINGALE 

As  it  fell  upon  a  day 

In  the  merry  month  of  May, 

Sitting  in  a  pleasant  shade 

Which  a  grove  of  myrtles  made, 

Beasts  did  leap  and  birds  did  sing,  5 

Trees  did  grow  and  plants  did  spring ; 

Everything  did  banish  moan 

Save  the  Nightingale  alone. 

She,  poor  bird,  as  all  forlorn, 

Lean'd  her  breast  up-till  a  thorn,  10 

And  there  sung  the  dolefull'st  ditty 

That  to  hear  it  was  great  pity. 

Fie,  fie,  fie,  now  would  she  cry ; 

Teru,  teru,  by  and  by : 

That  to  hear  her  so  complain  15 

Scarce  I  could  from  tears  refrain ; 

For  her  griefs  so  lively  shown 

Made  me  think  upon  mine  own. 

—  Ah,  thought  I,  thou  mourn'st  in  vain, 

None  takes  pity  on  thy  pain  :  20 

Senseless  trees,  they  cannot  hear  thee, 

Ruthless  beasts,  they  will  not  cheer  thee ; 

King  Pandion,  he  is  dead, 

All  thy  friends  are  lapp'd  in  lead : 

All  thy  fellow  birds  do  sing  25 

Careless  of  thy  sorrowing : 

Even  so,  poor  bird,  like  thee 

None  alive  will  pity  me. 

R.  Barnefield 


3o  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

XLVI 

Care-charmer  Sleep,  son  of  the  sable  Night, 
Brother  to  Death,  in  silent  darkness  born, 
Relieve  my  languish,  and  restore  the  light ; 
With  dark  forgetting  of  my  care  return. 

And  let  the  day  be  time  enough  to  mourn  5 

The  shipwreck  of  my  ill-adventured  youth : 
Let  waking  eyes  suffice  to  wail  their  scorn, 
Without  the  torment  of  the  night's  untruth. 

Cease,  dreams,  the  images  of  day-desires, 

To  model  forth  the  passions  of  the  morrow ;         v        10 

Never  let  rising  Sun  approve  you  liars, 

To  add  more  grief  to  aggravate  my  sorrow : 

Still  let  me  sleep,  embracing  clouds  in  vain, 
And  never  wake  to  feel  the  day's  disdain. 

S.  Daniel 

XLVII 

The  nightingale,  as  soon  as  April  bringeth  15 

Unto  her  rested  sense  a  perfect  waking, 
While  late-bare  earth,  proud  of  new  clothing,  springeth, 
Sings  out  her  woes,  a  thorn  her  songbook  making ; 
And  mournfully  bewailing, 

Her  throat  in  tunes  expresseth  20 

What  grief  her  breast  oppresseth 
For  Tereus'  force  on  her  chaste  will  prevailing. 

O  Philomela  fair,  O  take  some  gladness, 
That  here  is  juster  cause  of  plaintful  sadness : 

Thine  earth  now  springs,  mine  fadeth;  25 

Thy  thorn  without,  my  thorn  my  heart  invadeth. 

Alas,  she  hath  no  other  cause  of  anguish 

But  Tereus'  love,  on  her  by  strong  hand  wroken, 


BOOK  FIRST  31 

Wherein  she  suffering,  all  her  spirits  languish, 
Full  womanlike  complains  her  will  was  broken. 

But  I,  who,  daily  craving, 

Cannot  have  to  content  me, 

Have  more  cause  to  lament  me,  5 

Since  wanting  is  more  woe  than  too  much  having. 

O  Philomela  fair,  O  take  some  gladness 
That  here  is  juster  cause  of  plaintful  sadness : 
Thine  earth  now  springs,  mine  fadeth ; 
Thy  thorn  without,  my  thorn  my  heart  invadeth.  10 

Sir  P.  Sidney 

XLVIII 
FRUSTRA 

Take,  O  take  those  lips  away 

That  so  sweetly  were  forsworn, 

And  those  eyes,  the  break  of  day, 

Lights  that  do  mislead  the  morn : 

But  my  kisses  bring  again,  1 5 

Bring  again  — 
Seals  of  love,  but  seal'd  in  vain, 

Seal'd  in  vain ! 

W.  Shakespeare 

XLIX 
LOVE'S  FAREWELL 

Since  there 's  no  help,  come  let  us  kiss  and  part,  — 
Nay  I  have  done,  you  get  no  more  of  me ;  20 

And  I  am  glad,  yea,  glad  with  all  my  heart, 
That  thus  so  cleanly  I  myself  can  free ; 

Shake  hands  forever,  cancel  all  our  vows, 

And  when  we  meet  at  any  time  again, 

Be  it  not  seen  in  either  of  our  brows  25 

That  we  one  jot  of  former  love  retain. 


32  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Now  at  the  last  gasp  of  love's  latest  breath, 
When  his  pulse  failing,  passion  speechless  lies, 
When  faith  is  kneeling  by  his  bed  of  death, 
And  innocence  is  closing  up  his  eyes, 

— Now  if  thou  would'st,  when  all  have  given  him  over,       5 
From  death  to  life  thou  might'st  him  yet  recover ! 

M.  Drayton 

L 

IN  IMAGINE  PERTRANSIT  HOMO 

Follow  thy  fair  sun,  unhappy  shadow ! 

Though  thou  be  black  as  night 

And  she  made  all  of  light, 
Yet  follow  thy  fair  sun,  unhappy  shadow !  10 

Follow  her,  whose  light  thy  light  depriveth ! 

Though  here  thou  liv'st  disgraced, 

And  she  in  heaven  is  placed, 
Yet  follow  her  whose  light  the  world  reviveth ! 

Follow  those  pure  beams,  whose  beauty  burneth,  15 

That  so  have  scorched  thee 

As  thou  still  black  must  be 
Till  her  kind  beams  thy  black  to  brightness  turneth. 

Follow  her,  while  yet  her  glory  shineth ! 

There  comes  a  luckless  night  20 

That  will  dim  all  her  light ; 
—  And  this  the  black  unhappy  shade  divineth. 

Follow  still,  since  so  thy  fates  ordaineVi ! 

The  sun  must  have  his  shade, 

Till  both  at  once  do  fade,  —  25 

The  sun  still  proved,  the  shadow  still  disdained. 

T.  Campion 


BOOK  FIRST  33 

LI 
BLIND  LOVE 

O  me  !  what  eyes  hath  Love  put  in  my  head 
Which  have  no  correspondence  with  true  sight : 
Or  if  they  have,  where  is  my  judgment  fled 
That  censures  falsely  what  they  see  aright  ? 

If  that  be  fair  whereon  my  false  eyes  dote,  5 

What  means  the  world  to  say  it  is  not  so  ? 
If  it  be  not,  then  love  doth  well  denote 
Love's  eye  is  not  so  true  as  all  men's :  No, 

How  can  it  ?  O  how  can  love's  eye  be  true, 

That  is  so  vexed  with  watching  and  with  tears?  10 

No  marvel  then  though  I  mistake  my  view : 

The  sun  itself  sees  not  till  heaven  clears. 

O  cunning  Love !  with  tears  thou  keep'st  me  blind, 
Lest  eyes  well-seeing  thy  foul  faults  should  find ! 

W.  Shakespeare 

LII 

Sleep,  angry  beauty,  sleep  and  fear  not  me  !  1 5 

For  who  a  sleeping  lion  dares  provoke  ? 
It  shall  suffice  me  here  to  sit  and  see 

Those  lips  shut  up  that  never  kindly  spoke : 
What  sight  can  more  content  a  lover's  mind 
Than  beauty  seeming  harmless,  if  not  kind  ?  20 

My  words  have  charm'd  her,  for  secure  she  sleeps, 
Though  guilty  much  of  wrong  done  to  my  love ; 

And  in  her  slumber,  see !  she  close-eyed  weeps : 
Dreams  often  more  than  waking  passions  move. 

Plead,  Sleep,  my  cause,  and  make  her  soft  like  thee:       25 

That  she  in  peace  may  wake  and  pity  me. 

T.  Campion 


34  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

LIII 
THE  UNFAITHFUL  SHEPHERDESS1 

While  that  the  sun  with  his  beams  hot 
Scorched  the  fruits  in  vale  and  mountain, 
Philon  the  shepherd,  late  forgot, 
Sitting  beside  a  crystal  fountain, 

In  shadow  of  a  green  oak  tree  5 

Upon  his  pipe  this  song  play'd  he : 
Adieu,  Love,  adieu,  Love,  untrue  Love, 
Untrue  Love,  untrue  Love,  adieu,  Love; 
Your  mind  is  light,  soon  lost  for  new  love. 

So  long  as  I  was  in  your  sight  10 

I  was  your  heart,  your  soul,  and  treasure; 

And  evermore  you  sobb'd  and  sigh'd 

Burning  in  flames  beyond  all  measure : 
— Three  days  endured  your  love  to  me, 
And  it  was  lost  in  other  three  !  15 

Adieu,  Love,  adieu,  Love,  untrue  Love, 

Untrue  Love,  untrue  Love,  adieu,  Love ; 

Your  mind  is  light,  soon  lost  for  new  love. 

Another  Shepherd  you  did  see 

To  whom  your  heart  was  soon  enchained ;  20 

Full  soon  your  love  was  leapt  from  me, 

Full  soon  my  place  he  had  obtained. 

Soon  came  a  third,  your  love  to  win, 

And  we  were  out  and  he  was  in. 

Adieu,  Love,  adieu,  Love,  untrue  Love,  25 

Untrue  Love,  untrue  Love,  adieu,  Love; 
Your  mind  is  light,  soon  lost  for  new  love. 

Sure  you  have  made  me  passing  glad 

That  you  your  mind  so  soon  removed, 

Before  that  I  the  leisure  had  30 

To  choose  you  for  my  best  beloved : 

1  From  William  Byrd's  "  Songs  of  Sundry  Natures,"  1589.   It  was  reprinted  in 
"  England's  Helicon,"  1600. 


BOOK  FIRST  35 

For  all  your  love  was  past  and  done 

Two  days  before  it  was  begun  :  — 
Adieu,  Love,  adieu,  Love,  untrue  Love, 
Untrue  Love,  untrue  Love,  adieu,  Love ; 
Your  mind  is  light,  soon  lost  for  new  love.  5 

Anon. 

LIV 

ADVICE  TO  A  LOVER1 

The  sea  hath  many  thousand  sands, 

The  sun  hath  motes  as  many ; 

The  sky  is  full  of  stars,  and  Love 

As  full  of  woes  as  any : 

Believe  me,  that  do  know  the  elf,  10 

And  make  no  trial  by  thyself ! 

It  is  in  truth  a  pretty  toy 

For  babes  to  play  withal :  — 

But  O !  the  honeys  of  our  youth 

Are  oft  our  age's  gall !  1 5 

Self-proof  in  time  will  make  thee  know 

He  was  a  prophet  told  thee  so ; 

A  prophet  that,  Cassandra-like, 

Tells  truth  without  belief ; 

For  headstrong  Youth  will  run  his  race,  20 

Although  his  goal  be  grief :  — 

Love's  Martyr,  when  his  heat  is  past, 

Proves  Care's  Confessor  at  the  last. 

Anon. 

LV 
A  RENUNCIATION 

Thou  art  not  fair,  for  all  thy  red  and  white, 

For  all  those  rosy  ornaments  in  thee,  —  25 

Thou  art  not  sweet,  though  made  of  mere  delight, 

Nor  fair,  nor  sweet  —  unless  thou  pity  me  ! 
1  From  Robert  Jones's  "The  Muses'  Garden  of  Delights,"  1610. 


36  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

I  will  not  soothe  thy  fancies ;  thou  shalt  prove 
That  beauty  is  no  beauty  without  love. 

— Yet  love  not  me,  nor  seek  not  to  allure 

My  thoughts  with  beauty,  were  it  more  divine : 

Thy  smiles  and  kisses  I  cannot  endure, 

I  '11  not  be  wrapp'd  up  in  those  arms  of  thine : 

—  Now  show  it,  if  thou  be  a  woman  right  — 

Embrace  and  kiss  and  love  me  in  despite ! 

T.  Campion 


Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind, 

Thou  art  not  so  unkind  10 

As  man's  ingratitude ; 

Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen 

Because  thou  art  not  seen, 

Although  thy  breath  be  rude. 

Heigh  ho  !  sing  heigh  ho !  unto  the  green  holly :  1 5 

Most  friendship  is  feigning,  most  loving  mere  folly : 

Then,  heigh  ho !  the  holly ! 

This  life  is  most  jolly. 

Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky, 

Thou  dost  not  bite  so  nigh  20 

As  benefits  forgot: 

Though  thou  the  waters  warp, 

Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp 

As  friend  remember'd  not. 

Heigh  ho !  sing  heigh  ho !  unto  the  green  holly :  25 

Most  friendship  is  feigning,  most  loving  mere  folly : 

Then,  heigh  ho  !  the  holly  ! 

This  life  is  most  jolly. 

W.  Shakespeare 


BOOK  FIRST  37 

LVII 
A  SWEET  LULLABY  1 

Come  little  babe,  come  silly  soul, 

Thy  father's  shame,  thy  mother's  grief, 

Born  as  I  doubt  to  all  our  dole, 

And  to  thy  self  unhappy  chief : 

Sing  Lullaby  and  lap  it  warm,  5 

Poor  soul  that  thinks  no  creature  harm. 

Thou  little  think'st  and  less  dost  know, 

The  cause  of  this  thy  mother's  moan, 

Thou  want'st  the  wit  to  wail  her  woe, 

And  I  myself  am  all  alone :  10 

Why  dost  thou  weep  ?  why  dost  thou  wail  ? 

And  knowest  not  yet  what  thou  dost  ail. 

Come  little  wretch,  ah  silly  heart, 

Mine  only  joy,  what  can  I  more? 

If  there  be  any  wrong  thy  smart  15 

That  may  the  destinies  implore : 

'Twas  I,  I  say,  against  my  will, 

I  wail  the  time,  but  be  thou  still. 

And  dost  thou  smile,  oh  thy  sweet  face ! 

Would  God  Himself  He  might  thee  see,  20 

No  doubt  thou  would'st  soon  purchase  grace, 

I  know  right  well,  for  thee  and  me : 

But  come  to  mother,  babe,  and  play, 

For  father  false  is  fled  away. 

Sweet  boy,  if  it  by  fortune  chance,  25 

Thy  father  home  again  to  send, 

If  death  do  strike  me  with  his  lance, 

Yet  mayst  thou  me  to  him  commend : 

If  any  ask  thy  mother's  name, 

Tell  how  by  love  she  purchased  blame.  30 

1  From  Nicholas  Breton's  "  Arbor  of  Amorous  Devices,"  1593-1594. 


$8  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Then  will  his  gentle  heart  soon  yield, 
I  know  him  of  a  noble  mind, 
Although  a  Lion  in  the  field, 
A  Lamb  in  town  thou  shalt  him  find : 

Ask  blessing,  babe,  be  not  afraid,  5 

His  sugar 'd  words  hath  me  betray 'd. 

Then  mayst  thou  joy  and  be  right  glad, 

Although  in  woe  I  seem  to  moan, 

Thy  father  is  no  rascal  lad, 

A  noble  youth  of  blood  and  bone :  10 

His  glancing  looks,  if  he  once  smile, 

Right  honest  women  may  beguile. 

Come,  little  boy,  and  rock  asleep, 

Sing  lullaby  and  be  thou  still ; 

I  that  can  do  naught  else  but  weep,  1 5 

Will  sit  by  thee  and  wail  my  fill : 

God  bless  my  babe,  and  lullaby 

From  this  thy  father's  quality ! 

Anon. 

LVIII 

With  how  sad  steps,  O  Moon,  thou  climb'st  the  skies ! 
How  silently,  and  with  how  wan  a  face !  20 

What,  may  it  be  that  e'en  in  heavenly  place 
That  busy  archer  his  sharp  arrows  tries ! 

Sure,  if  that  long-with-love-acquainted  eyes 

Can  judge  of  love,  thou  feel'st  a  lover's  case, 

I  read  it  in  thy  looks  ;  thy  languish'd  grace,  25 

To  me,  that  feel  the  like,  thy  state  descries. 

Then,  e'en  of  fellowship,  O  Moon,  tell  me, 

Is  constant  love  deem'd  there  but  want  of  wit? 

Are  beauties  there  as  proud  as  here  they  be  ? 

Do  they  above  love  to  be  loved,  and  yet  3° 


BOOK  FIRST  39 

Those  lovers  scorn  whom  that  love  doth  possess  ? 
Do  they  call  virtue,  there,  ungratefulness  ? 

Sir  P.  Sidney 

LIX 
O  CRUDELIS  AMOR 

When  thou  must  home  to  shades  of  underground, 

And  there  arrived,  a  new  admired  guest, 

The  beauteous  spirits  do  engirt  thee  round,  5 

White  lope*,  blithe  Helen,  and  the  rest, 

To  hear  the  stories  of  thy  finish'd  love 

From  that  smooth  tongue  whose  music  hell  can  move ; 

Then  wilt  thou  speak  of  banqueting  delights, 

Of  masques  and  revels  which  sweet  youth  did  make,       10 

Of  tourneys  and  great  challenges  of  Knights, 

And  all  these  triumphs  for  thy  beauty's  sake : 

When  thou  hast  told  these  honors  done  to  thee, 

Then  tell,  O  tell,  how  thou  didst  murder  me ! 

T.  Campion 

LX 
SEPHESTIA'S  SONG  TO  HER  CHILD 

Weep  not,  my  wanton,  smile  upon  my  knee ;  1 5 

When  thou  art  old,  there 's  grief  enough  for  thee. 

Mother's  wag,  pretty  boy, 

Father's  sorrow,  father's  joy ; 

When  thy  father  first  did  see 

Such  a  boy  by  him  and  me,  20 

He  was  glad,  I  was  woe, 

Fortune  changed  made  him  so, 

When  he  left  his  pretty  boy 

Last  his  sorrow,  first  his  joy. 

Weep  not,  my  wanton,  smile  upon  my  knee;  25 

When  thou  art  old,  there  's  grief  enough  for  thee. 


40  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURE 

Streaming  tears  that  never  stint, 

Like  pearl  drops  from  a  flint, 

Fell  by  course  from  his  eyes, 

That  one  another's  place  supplies; 

Thus  he  grieved  in  every  part,  5 

Tears  of  blood  fell  from  his  heart, 

When  he  left  his  pretty  boy, 

Father's  sorrow,  father's  joy. 

Weep  not,  my  wanton,  smile  upon  my  knee ; 

When  thou  art  old,  there 's  grief  enough  for  thee.  10 

The  wanton  smiled,  father  wept, 

Mother  cried,  baby  leapt ; 

More  he  crow'd,  more  we  cried, 

Nature  could  not  sorrow  hide : 

He  must  go,  he  must  kiss  1 5 

Child  and  mother,  baby  bless, 

For  he  left  his  pretty  boy, 

Father's  sorrow,  father's  joy. 
Weep  not,  my  wanton,  smile  upon  my  knee, 
When  thou  art  old,  there 's  grief  enough  for  thee.  20 

R.  Greene 

LXI 
A  LAMENT 

My  thoughts  hold  mortal  strife ; 

I  do  detest  my  life, 

And  with  lamenting  cries 

Peace  to  my  soul  to  bring 

Oft  call  that  prince  which  here  doth  monarchize :     25 

—  But  he,  grim  grinning  King, 

Who  caitiffs  scorns,  and  doth  the  blest  surprise, 

Late  having  deck'd  with  beauty's  rose  his  tomb, 

Disdains  to  crop  a  weed,  and  will  not  come. 

W.  Drummond 


BOOK  FIRST  41 

LXII 
DIRGE  OF  LOVE 

Come  away,  come  away,  Death, 
And  in  sad  cypress  let  me  be  laid ; 

Fly  away,  fly  away,  breath ; 
I  am  slain  by  a  fair  cruel  maid. 
My  shroud  of  white,  stuck  all  with  yew,  5 

O  prepare  it ! 

My  part  of  death,  no  one  so  true 
Did  share  it. 

Not  a  flower,  not  a  flower  sweet 
On  my  black  coffin  let  there  be  strown ;  10 

Not  a  friend,  not  a  friend  greet 
My  poor  corpse,  where  my  bones  shall  be  thrown  : 
A  thousand  thousand  sighs  to  save, 

Lay  me,  O  where 

Sad  true  lover  never  find  my  grave,  1 5 

To  weep  there. 

W.  Shakespeare 

LXIII 
TO  HIS  LUTE 

My  lute,  be  as  thou  wert  when  thou  didst  grow 

With  thy  green  mother  in  some  shady  grove, 

When  immelodious  winds  but  made  thee  move, 

And  birds  their  ramage  did  on  thee  bestow.  20 

Since  that  dear  Voice  which  did  thy  sounds  approve, 
Which  wont  in  such  harmonious  strains  to  flow, 
Is  reft  from  Earth  to  tune  those  spheres  above, 
What  art  thou  but  a  harbinger  of  woe  ? 

Thy  pleasing  notes  be  pleasing  notes  no  more,  25 

But  orphans'  wailings  to  the  fainting  ear ; 
Each  stroke  a  sigh,  each  sound  draws  forth  a  tear ; 
For  which  be  silent  as  in  woods  before : 


42  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Or  if  that  any  hand  to  touch  thee  deign, 
Like  widow'd  turtle,  still  her  loss  complain. 

W.  Drummond 

LXIV 
FIDELE 

Fear  no  more  the  heat  o'  the  sun 

Nor  the  furious  winter's  rages ; 
Thou  thy  worldly  task  hast  done,  5 

Home  art  gone  and  ta'en  thy  wages : 
Golden  lads  and  girls  all  must, 
As  chimney  sweepers,  come  to  dust. 

Fear  no  more  the  frown  o'  the  great, 

Thou  art  past  the  tyrant's  stroke ;  10 

Care  no  more  to  clothe  and  eat ; 
To  thee  the  reed  is  as  the  oak : 

The  scepter,  learning,  physic,  must 

All  follow  this,  and  come  to  dust. 

Fear  no  more  the  lightning  flash  1 5 

Nor  the  all-dreaded  thunderstone ; 

Fear  not  slander,  censure  rash ; 

Thou  hast  finish'd  joy  and  moan : 

All  lovers  young,  all  lovers  must 

Consign  to  thee,  and  come  to  dust.  20 

W.  Shakespeare 


A  SEA  DIRGE 

Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies : 

Of  his  bones  are  coral  made ; 
Those  are  pearls  that  were  his  eyes : 

Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade, 

But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change  25 

Into  something  rich  and  strange. 


BOOK  FIRST  43 

Sea  nymphs  hourly  ring  his  knell : 
Hark !  now  I  hear  them,  — 
Ding,  dong,  bell. 

W.  Shakespeare 

LXVI 
A  LAND  DIRGE 

Call  for  the  robin-redbreast  and  the  wren, 

Since  o'er  shady  groves  they  hover  5 

And  with  leaves  and  flowers  do  cover 

The  friendless  bodies  of  unburied  men. 

Call  unto  his  funeral  dole 

The  ant,  the  field  mouse,  and  the  mole 

To  rear  him  hillocks  that  shall  keep  him  warm  10 

And  (when  gay  tombs  are  robb'd)  sustain  no  harm ; 

But  keep  the  wolf  far  thence,  that 's  foe  to  men, 

For  with  his  nails  he  '11  dig  them  up  again. 

/.  Webster 
LXVII 

POST  MORTEM 

If  Thou  survive  my  well-contented  day 

When  that  churl  Death  my  bones  with  dust  shall  cover,      1 5 

And  shalt  by  fortune  once  more  resurvey 

These  poor  rude  lines  of  thy  deceased  lover ; 

Compare  them  with  the  bettering  of  the  time, 

And  though  they  be  outstripp'd  by  every  pen, 

Reserve  them  for  my  love,  not  for  their  rhyme  20 

Exceeded  by  the  height  of  happier  men. 

O  then  vouchsafe  me  but  this  loving  thought  — 

"  Had  my  friend's  Muse  grown  with  this  growing  age, 

A  dearer  birth  than  this  his  love  had  brought, 

To  march  in  ranks  of  better  equipage :  25 

But  since  he  died,  and  poets  better  prove, 
Theirs  for  their  style  I  '11  read,  his  for  his  love." 

W.  Shakespean 


44  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

LXVIII 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  DEATH 

No  longer  mourn  for  me  when  I  am  dead 
Than  you  shall  hear  the  surly  sullen  bell 
Give  warning  to  the  world,  that  I  am  fled 
From  this  vile  world,  with  vilest  worms  to  dwell ; 

Nay,  if  you  read  this  line,  remember  not  5 

The  hand  that  writ  it ;  for  I  love  you  so, 
That  I  in  your  sweet  thoughts  would  be  forgot 
If  thinking  on  me  then  should  make  you  woe. 

O  if,  I  say,  you  look  upon  this  verse 

When  I  perhaps  compounded  am  with  clay,  10 

Do  not  so  much  as  my  poor  name  rehearse, 

But  let  your  love  even  with  my  life  decay ; 

Lest  the  wise  world  should  look  into  your  moan, 
And  mock  you  with  me  after  I  am  gone. 

W.  Shakespeare 

LXIX 
YOUNG  LOVE 

Tell  me  where  is  Fancy  bred,  15 

Or  in  the  heart,  or  in  the  head  ? 
How  begot,  how  nourished  ? 
Reply,  reply. 

It  is  engender'd  in  the  eyes ; 
With  gazing  fed ;  and  Fancy  dies  20 

In  the  cradle  where  it  lies : 
Let  us  all  ring  Fancy's  knell; 
I  '11  begin  it,  —  Ding,  dong,  bell. 
—  Ding,  dong,  bell. 

W.  Shakespeare 


BOOK  FIRST  45 

LXX 

A  DILEMMA  i 

Lady,  when  I  behold  the  roses  sprouting 

Which  clad  in  damask  mantles  deck  the  arbors, 
And  then  behold  your  lips  where  sweet  love  harbors, 
My  eyes  present  me  with  a  double  doubting : 
For  viewing  both  alike,  hardly  my  mind  supposes  5 

Whether  the  roses  be  your  lips,  or  your  lips  the  roses. 

Anon, 

LXXI 
ROSALYND'S  MADRIGAL 

Love  in  my  bosom,  like  a  bee, 

Doth  suck  his  sweet ; 
Now  with  his  wings  he  plays  with  me, 

Now  with  his  feet.  10 

Within  mine  eyes  he  makes  his  nest, 
His  bed  amidst  my  tender  breast ; 
My  kisses  are  his  daily  feast, 
And  yet  he  robs  me  of  my  rest : 

Ah !  wanton,  will  ye  ?  15 

And  if  I  sleep,  then  percheth  he 
With  pretty  flight, 
And  makes  his  pillow  of  my  knee 
The  livelong  night. 

Strike  I  my  lute,  he  tunes  the  string ;  20 

He  music  plays  if  so  I  sing ; 
He  lends  me  every  lovely  thing, 
Yet  cruel  he  my  heart  doth  sting : 
Whist,  wanton,  will  ye  ? 

Else  I  with  roses  every  day  25 

Will  whip  you  hence, 

l  From  John  Wilbye's  "  First  Set  of  English  Madrigals,"  1598. 


46  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  bind  you,  when  you  long  to  play, 

For  your  offence ; 
I  '11  shut  my  eyes  to  keep  you  in ; 
I  '11  make  you  fast  it  for  your  sin ; 
I  '11  count  your  power  not  worth  a  pin ;  5 

— Alas !  what  hereby  shall  I  win, 
If  he  gainsay  me  ? 

What  if  I  beat  the  wanton  boy 

With  many  a  rod  ? 
He  will  repay  me  with  annoy,  10 

Because  a  god. 

Then  sit  thou  safely  on  my  knee, 
And  let  thy  bower  my  bosom  be ; 
Lurk  in  mine  eyes,  I  like  of  thee, 
O  Cupid!  so  thou  pity  me,  15 

Spare  not,  but  play  thee  ! 

T.  Lodge 

LXXII 
CUPID  AND  CAMPASPE 

Cupid  and  my  Campaspe*  play'd 

At  cards  for  kisses ;  Cupid  paid : 

He  stakes  his  quiver,  bow,  and  arrows, 

His  mother's  doves,  and  team  of  sparrows ;  20 

Loses  them  too ;  then  down  he  throws 

The  coral  of  his  lip,  the  rose 

Growing  on 's  cheek  (but  none  knows  how) ; 

With  these,  the  crystal  of  his  brow, 

And  then  the  dimple  on  his  chin ;  25 

All  these  did  my  Campaspe*  win : 

And  last  he  set  her  both  his  eyes  — 

She  won,  and  Cupid  blind  did  rise. 

O  Love  !  has  she  done  this  to  thee  ? 

What  shall,  alas  !  become  of  me  ?  30 

/.  Lylye 


BOOK  FIRST  47 

LXXIII 

Pack,  clouds,  away,  and  welcome  day, 

With  night  we  banish  sorrow ; 
Sweet  air  blow  soft,  mount  larks  aloft 

To  give  my  Love  good  morrow ! 
Wings  from  the  wind  to  please  her  mind,  5 

Notes  from  the  lark  I  '11  borrow ; 
Bird,  prune  thy  wing,  nightingale  sing, 

To  give  my  Love  good  morrow ; 

To  give  my  Love  good  morrow 

Notes  from  them  both  I  '11  borrow.  10 

Wake  from  thy  nest,  Robin-red-breast, 

Sing,  birds,  in  every  furrow ; 
And  from  each  hill,  let  music  shrill 
Give  my  fair  Love  good  morrow ! 
Blackbird  and  thrush  in  every  bush,  1 5 

Stare,  linnet,  and  cock  sparrow ! 
You  pretty  elves,  amongst  yourselves 
Sing  my  fair  Love  good  morrow ; 
To  give  my  Love  good  morrow 
Sing,  birds,  in  every  furrow !  20 

T.  Hcywood 

LXXIV 
PROTHALAMION 

Calm  was  the  day,  and  through  the  trembling  air 

Sweet-breathing  Zephyrus  did  softly  play  — 

A  gentle  spirit,  that  lightly  did  delay 

Hot  Titan's  beams,  which  then  did  glister  fair ; 

When  I  (whom  sullen  care,  25 

Through  discontent  of  my  long  fruitless  stay 

In  princes'  court,  and  expectation  vain 

Of  idle  hopes,  which  still  do  fly  away 

Like  empty  shadows,  did  afflict  my  brain) 


48  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Walk'd  forth  to  ease  my  pain 

Along  the  shore  of  silver-streaming  Thames ; 

Whose  rutty  bank,  the  which  his  river  hems, 

Was  painted  all  with  variable  flowers, 

And  all  the  meads  adorn'd  with  dainty  gems  5 

Fit  to  deck  maidens'  bowers, 

And  crown  their  paramours 

Against  the  bridal  day,  which  is  not  long : 

Sweet  Thames !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

There  in  a  meadow  by  the  river's  side  10 

A  flock  of  nymphs  I  chance'd  to  espy, 
All  lovely  daughters  of  the  flood  thereby, 
With  goodly  greenish  locks  all  loose  untied 
As  each  had  been  a  bride ; 

And  each  one  had  a  little  wicker  basket  1 5 

Made  of  fine  twigs,  entraile'd  curiously. 
In  which  they  gather'd  flowers  to  fill  their  flasket, 
And  with  fine  fingers  cropt  full  feateously 
The  tender  stalks  on  high. 

Of  every  sort  which  in  that  meadow  grew  20 

They  gather'd  some ;  the  violet,  pallid  blue, 
The  little  daisy  that  at  evening  closes, 
The  virgin  lily  and  the  primrose  true, 
With  store  of  vermeil  roses, 

To  deck  their  bridegrooms'  posies  25 

Against  the  bridal  day,  which  was  not  long : 
Sweet  Thames !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

With  that  I  saw  two  Swans  of  goodly  hue 

Come  softly  swimming  down  along  the  Lee ; 

Two  fairer  birds  I  yet  did  never  see ;  30 

The  snow  which  doth  the  top  of  Pindus  strow 

Did  never  whiter  show, 

Nor  Jove  himself,  when  he  a  swan  would  be 

For  love  of  Leda,  whiter  did  appear ; 


BOOK  FIRST  49 

Yet  Leda  was  (they  say)  as  white  as  he, 
Yet  not  so  white  as  these,  nor  nothing  near ; 
So  purely  white  they  were 

That  even  the  gentle  stream,  the  which  them  bare, 
Seem'd  foul  to  them,  and  bade  his  billows  spare  5 

To  wet  their  silken  feathers,  lest  they  might 
Soil  their  fair  plumes  with  water  not  so  fair, 
And  mar  their  beauties  bright 
That  shone  as  Heaven's  light 

Against  their  bridal  day,  which  was  not  long:  10 

Sweet  Thames !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

Eftsoons  the  nymphs,  which  now  had  flowers  their  fill, 
Ran  all  in  haste  to  see  that  silver  brood 
As  they  came  floating  on  the  crystal  flood ; 
Whom  when  they  saw,  they  stood  amazed  still  15 

Their  wondering  eyes  to  fill ; 
Them  seem'd  they  never  saw  a  sight  so  fair 
Of  fowls,  so  lovely,  that  they  sure  did  deem 
Them  heavenly  born,  or  to  be  that  same  pair 
Which  through  the  sky  draw  Venus'  silver  team ;  20 

For  sure  they  did  not  seem 
To  be  begot  of  any  earthly  seed, 
But  rather  Angels,  or  of  Angels'  breed ; 
Yet  were  they  bred  of  summer's  heat,  they  say, 
In  sweetest  season,  when  each  flower  and  weed  25 

The  earth  did  fresh  array ; 
So  fresh  they  seem'd  as  day, 
Ev'n  as  their  bridal  day,  which  was  not  long : 
Sweet  Thames !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

Then  forth  they  all  out  of  their  baskets  drew  30 

Great  store  of  flowers,  the  honor  of  the  field, 
That  to  the  sense  did  fragrant  odors  yield, 
All  which  upon  those  goodly  birds  they  threw 
And  all  the  waves  did  strew, 


50  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

That  like  old  Pencils'  waters  they  did  seem 
When  down  along  by  pleasant  Tempe's  shore 
Scatter'd  with  flowers,  through  Thessaly  they  stream, 
That  they  appear,  through  lilies'  plenteous  store, 
Like  a  bride's  chamber  floor.  5 

Two  of  those  nymphs  meanwhile  two  garlands  bound 
Of  freshest  flowers  which  in  that  mead  they  found, 
The  which  presenting  all  in  trim  array, 
Their  snowy  foreheads  therewithal  they  crown'd ; 
Whilst  one  did  sing  this  lay  10 

Prepared  against  that  day, 
Against  their  bridal  day,  which  was  not  long : 
Sweet  Thames !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

"  Ye  gentle  birds !  the  world's  fair  ornament, 
And  Heaven's  glory,  whom  this  happy  hour  1 5 

Doth  lead  unto  your  lovers'  blissful  bower, 
Joy  may  you  have,  and  gentle  heart's  content 
Of  your  love's  couplement ; 
And  let  fair  Venus,  that  is  queen  of  love, 
With  her  heart-quelling  son  upon  you  smile,  20 

Whose  smile,  they  say,  hath  virtue  to  remove 
All  love's  dislike,  and  friendship's  faulty  guile 
Forever  to  assoil. 

Let  endless  peace  your  steadfast  hearts  accord, 
And  blesse'd  plenty  wait  upon  your  board ;  25 

And  let  your  bed  with  pleasures  chaste  abound, 
That  fruitful  issue  may  to  you  afford 
Which  may  your  foes  confound, 
And  make  your  joys  redound 

Upon  your  bridal  day,  which  is  not  long  :  30 

Sweet  Thames !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song." 

So  ended  she ;  and  all  the  rest  around 
To  her  redoubled  that  her  undersong, 
Which  said  their  bridal  day  should  not  be  long : 


BOOK  FIRST  51 

And  gentle  Echo  from  the  neighbor  ground 

Their  accents  did  resound. 

So  forth  those  joyous  birds  did  pass  along 

Adown  the  Lee  that  to  them  murmur'd  low, 

As  he  would  speak  but  that  he  lack'd  a  tongue ;  5 

Yet  did  by  signs  his  glad  affection  show, 

Making  his  stream  run  slow. 

And  all  the  fowl  which  in  his  flood  did  dwell 

'Gan  flock  about  these  twain,  that  did  excel 

The  rest,  so  far  as  Cynthia  doth  shend  10 

The  lesser  stars.     So  they,  enrange'd  well, 

Did  on  those  two  attend, 

And  their  best  service  lend 

Against  their  wedding  day,  which  was  not  long : 

Sweet  Thames !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song.  1 5 

At  length  they  all  to  merry  London  came, 

To  merry  London,  my  most  kindly  nurse, 

That  to  me  gave  this  life's  first  native  source, 

Though  from  another  place  I  take  my  name, 

An  house  of  ancient  fame :  20 

There  when  they  came  whereas  those  bricky  towers 

The  which  on  Thames'  broad  aged  back  do  ride, 

Where  now  the  studious  lawyers  have  their  bowers, 

There  whilom  wont  the  Templar  knights  to  bide, 

Till  they  decay'd  through  pride ;  25 

Next  whereunto  there  stands  a  stately  place, 

Where  oft  I  gained  gifts  and  goodly  grace 

Of  that  great  lord,  which  therein  wont  to  dwell, 

Whose  want  too  well  now  feels  my  friendless  case ; 

But  ah !  here  fits  not  well  30 

Old  woes,  but  joys  to  tell 

Against  the  bridal  day,  which  is  not  long : 

Sweet  Thames !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

Yet  therein  now  doth  lodge  a  noble  peer, 

Great  England's  glory  and  the  world's  wide  wonder,        35 


52  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Whose  dreadful  name  late  through  all  Spain  did  thunder, 
And  Hercules'  two  pillars  standing  near 
Did  make  to  quake  and  fear : 
Fair  branch  of  honor,  flower  of  chivalry  ! 
That  fillest  England  with  thy  triumphs'  fame,  5 

Joy  have  thou  of  thy  noble  victory, 
And  endless  happiness  of  thine  own  name 
That  promiseth  the  same ; 
That  through  thy  prowess  and  victorious  arms 
Thy  country  may  be  freed  from  foreign  harms,  10 

And  great  Elisa's  glorious  name  may  ring 
Through  all  the  world,  fill'd  with  thy  wide  alarms, 
Which  some  brave  Muse  may  sing 
To  ages  following : 

Upon  the  bridal  day,  which  is  not  long :  1 5 

Sweet  Thames !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

From  those  high  towers  this  noble  lord  issuing 
Like  radiant  Hesper,  when  his  golden  hair 
In  th'  ocean  billows  he  hath  bathe*d  fair, 
Descended  to  the  river's  open  viewing  20 

With  a  great  train  ensuing. 
Above  the  rest  were  goodly  to  be  seen 
Two  gentle  knights  of  lovely  face  and  feature, 
Beseeming  well  the  bower  of  any  queen, 
With  gifts  of  wit  and  ornaments  of  nature,  25 

Fit  for  so  goodly  stature, 

That  like  the  twins  of  Jove  they  seem'd  in  sight 
Which  deck  the  baldric  of  the  Heavens  bright; 
They  two,  forth  pacing  to  the  river's  side, 
Received  those  two  fair  brides,  their  love's  delight ;         30 
Which,  at  th'  appointed  tide, 
Each  one  did  make  his  bride 
Against  their  bridal  day,  which  is  not  long : 
Sweet  Thames  !  run  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

E.  Spenser 


BOOK  FIRST  53 


THE  HAPPY  HEART 

Art  thou  poor,  yet  hast  thou  golden  slumbers  ? 

O  sweet  content ! 
Art  thou  rich,  yet  is  thy  mind  perplex'd  ? 

O  punishment ! 

Dost  thou  laugh  to  see  how  fools  are  vex'd  5 

To  add  to  golden  numbers,  golden  numbers? 
O  sweet  content !  O  sweet,  O  sweet  content ! 
Work  apace,  apace,  apace,  apace ; 
Honest  labor  bears  a  lovely  face ; 
Then  hey  nonny  nonny,  hey  nonny  nonny !  10 

Canst  drink  the  waters  of  the  crispe'd  spring  ? 

O  sweet  content ! 
Swimm'st  thou  in  wealth,  yet  sink'st  in  thine  own  tears  ? 

O  punishment! 

Then  he  that  patiently  want's  burden  bears  1 5 

No  burden  bears,  but  is  a  king,  a  king  ! 
O  sweet  content !  O  sweet,  O  sweet  content ! 
Work  apace,  apace,  apace,  apace ; 
Honest  labor  bears  a  lovely  face ; 

Then  hey  nonny  nonny,  hey  nonny  nonny  !  20 

T.  Dekker 

LXXVI 
SIC  TRANSIT 

Come,  cheerful  day,  part  of  my  life  to  me ; 

For  while  thou  view'st  me  with  thy  fading  light 
Part  of  my  life  doth  still  depart  with  thee, 

And  I  still  onward  haste  to  my  last  night : 
Time's  fatal  wings  do  ever  forward  fly —  25 

So  every  day  we  live,  a  day  we  die. 

But  O  ye  nights,  ordain'd  for  barren  rest, 
How  are  my  days  deprived  of  life  in  you 


54  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

When  heavy  sleep  my  soul  hath  dispossest, 

By  feigne'd  death  life  sweetly  to  renew ! 
Part  of  my  life,  in  that,  you  life  deny : 
So  every  day  we  live,  a  day  we  die. 

T.  Campion 

LXXVII 

This  Life,  which  seems  so  fair,  5 

Is  like  a  bubble  blown  up  in  the  air 

By  sporting  children's  breath, 

Who  chase  it  everywhere 

And  strive  who  can  most  motion  it  bequeath. 

And  though  it  sometimes  seem  of  its  own  might  10 

Like  to  an  eye  of  gold  to  be  fix'd  there, 

And  firm  to  hover  in  that  empty  height, 

That  only  is  because  it  is  so  light. 

—  But  in  that  pomp  it  doth  not  long  appear ; 

For  when  'tis  most  admired,  in  a  thought,  15 

Because  it  erst  was  naught,  it  turns  to  naught. 

W.  Drummond 

LXXVIII 
SOUL  AND  BODY 

^    Poor  Soul,  the  center  of  my  sinful  earth, 

[Foil'd  by]  those  rebel  powers  that  thee  array, 
Why  dost  thou  pine  within,  and  suffer  dearth, 
Painting  thy  outward  walls  so  costly  gay  ?  20 

Why  so  large  cost,  having  so  short  a  lease, 
Dost  thou  upon  thy  fading  mansion  spend  ? 
Shall  worms,  inheritors  of  this  excess, 
Eat  up  thy  charge  ?  is  this  thy  body's  end  ? 

Then,  Soul,  live  thou  upon  thy  servant's  loss,  25 

And  let  that  pine  to  aggravate  thy  store ; 


BOOK  FIRST  55 

Buy  terms  divine  in  selling  hours  of  dross  ; 
Within  be  fed,  without  be  rich  no  more :  — 

So  shalt  thou  feed  on  death,  that  feeds  on  men, 
And  death  once  dead,  there 's  no  more  dying  then. 

W.  Shakespeare 

LXXIX 

The  man  of  life  upright,  5 

Whose  guiltless  heart  is  free 
From  all  dishonest  deeds, 

Or  thought  of  vanity ; 

The  man  whose  silent  days 

In  harmless  joys  are  spent,  *o 

Whom  hopes  cannot  delude 

Nor  sorrow  discontent : 

That  man  needs  neither  towers 

Nor  armor  for  defence, 
Nor  secret  vaults  to  fly  15 

From  thunder's  violence : 

He  only  can  behold 

With  unaffrighted  eyes 
The  horrors  of  the  deep 

And  terrors  of  the  skies.  20 

Thus  scorning  all  the  cares 

That  fate  or  fortune  brings, 
He  makes  the  heaven  his  book, 

His  wisdom  heavenly  things ; 

Good  thoughts  his  only  friends,  25 

His  wealth  a  well-spent  age, 
The  earth  his  sober  inn 

And  quiet  pilgrimage. 

7!  Campion 


56  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

LXXX 

THE  LESSONS  OF  NATURE 

Of  this  fair  volume  which  we  World  do  name 
If  we  the  sheets  and  leaves  could  turn  with  care, 
Of  Him  who  it  corrects,  and  did  it  frame, 
We  clear  might  read  the  art  and  wisdom  rare : 

Find  out  His  power  which  wildest  powers  doth  tame,       5 

His  providence  extending  everywhere, 

His  justice  which  proud  rebels  doth  not  spare, 

In  every  page,  no  period  of  the  same. 

But  silly  we,  like  foolish  children,  rest 

Well  pleased  with  color'd  vellum,  leaves  of  gold,  10 

Fair  dangling  ribbons,  leaving  what  is  best, 

On  the  great  Writer's  sense  ne'er  taking  hold ; 

Or  if  by  chance  we  stay  our  minds  on  aught, 
It  is  some  picture  on  the  margin  wrought. 

W.  Drummond 
LXXXI 

Doth  then  the  world  go  thus,  doth  all  thus  move?  15 

'  Is  this  the  justice  which  on  earth  we  find  ? 
Is  this  that  firm  decree  which  all  doth  bind  ? 
Are  these  your  influences,  Powers  above  ? 

Those  souls  which  vice's  moody  mists  most  blind, 
Blind  Fortune,  blindly,  most  their  friend  doth  prove ;      20 
And  they  who  thee,  poor  idol  Virtue !  love, 
Ply  like  a  feather  toss'd  by  storm  and  wind. 

Ah !  if  a  Providence  doth  sway  this  all 

Why  should  best  minds  groan  under  most  distress  ? 

Or  why  should  pride  humility  make  thrall,  25 

And  injuries  the  innocent  oppress  ? 

Heavens !  hinder,  stop  this  fate  ;  or  grant  a  time 
When  good  may  have,  as  well  as  bad,  their  prime  ! 

IV.  Drummond 


BOOK  FIRST  57 

LXXXII 
THE  WORLD'S  WAY 

Tired  with  all  these,  for  restful  death  I  cry  — 
As,  to  behold  desert  a  beggar  born, 
And  needy  nothing  trimm'd  in  jollity, 
And  purest  faith  unhappily  forsworn, 

And  gilded  honor  shamefully  misplaced,  5 

And  maiden  virtue  rudely  strumpeted, 
And  right  perfection  wrongfully  disgraced, 
And  strength  by  limping  sway  disabled, 

And  art  made  tongue-tied  by  authority, 

And  folly,  doctor-like,  controlling  skill,  10 

And  simple  truth  miscall'd  simplicity, 

And  captive  Good  attending  captain  111 :  — 

—  Tired  with  all  these,  from  these  would  I  be  gone, 
Save  that,  to  die,  I  leave  my  Love  alone. 

W.  Shakespeare 

LXXXIII 
A  WISH 

Happy  were  he  could  finish  forth  his  fate  15 

In  some  unhaunted  desert,  where,  obscure 

From  all  society,  from  love  and  hate 

Of  worldly  folk,  there  should  he  sleep  secure ; 

Then  wake  again,  and  yield  God  ever  praise  ; 

Content  with  hip,  with  haws,  and  brambleberry ;  20 

In  contemplation  passing  still  his  days, 

And  change  of  holy  thoughts  to  make  him  merry : 

Who,  when  he  dies,  his  tomb  might  be  the  bush 
Where  harmless  robin  resteth  with  the  thrush  : 

—  Happy  were  he !  25 

R.  Devereux, 

Earl  of  Essex 


58  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

LXXXIV 
SAINT  JOHN  BAPTIST 

The  last  and  greatest  Herald  of  Heaven's  King 
Girt  with  rough  skins,  hies  to  the  deserts  wild, 
Among  that  savage  brood  the  woods  forth  bring, 
Which  he  more  harmless  found  than  man,  and  mild. 

His  food  was  locusts,  and  what  there  doth  spring,  5 

With  honey  that  from  virgin  hives  distill'd ; 
Parch'd  body,  hollow  eyes,  some  uncouth  thing 
Made  him  appear,  long  since  from  earth  exiled. 

There  burst  he  forth :  All  ye  whose  hopes  rely 

On  God,  with  me  amidst  these  deserts  mourn,  i< 

Repent,  repent,  and  from  old  errors  turn ! 

—  Who  listen'd  to  his  voice,  obey'd  his  cry  ? 

Only  the  echoes,  which  he  made  relent, 

Rung  from  their  flinty  caves,  Repent !  Repent ! 

W.  Drummond 


BOOK   SECOND 


This  division,  embracing  generally  the  latter  eighty  years  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  contains  the  close  of  our  early  poetical  style  and  the  commencement  of 
the  modern.  In  Dryden  we  see  the  first  master  of  the  new ;  in  Milton,  whose 
genius  dominates  here  as  Shakespeare's  in  the  former  book,  the  crown  and 
consummation  of  the  early  period.  Their  splendid  odes  are  far  in  advance  of 
any  prior  attempts,  Spenser's  excepted;  they  exhibit  that  wider  and  grander 
range  which  years  and  experience  and  the  struggles  of  the  time  conferred  on 
poetry.  Our  Muses  now  give  expression  to  political  feeling,  to  religious  thought, 
to  a  high  philosophic  statesmanship  in  writers  such  as  Marvell,  Herbert,  and 
Wotton ;  whilst  in  Marvell  and  Milton,  again,  we  find  noble  attempts,  hitherto 
rare  in  our  literature,  at  pure  description  of  nature,  destined  in  our  own  age  to 
be  continued  and  equaled.  Meanwhile  the  poetry  of  simple  passion,  although 
before  1660  often  deformed  by  verbal  fancies  and  conceits  of  thought,  and  after- 
wards by  levity  and  an  artificial  tone,  produced  in  Herrick  and  Waller  some 
charming  pieces  of  more  finished  art  than  the  Elizabethan,  until  in  the  courtly 
compliments  of  Sedley  it  seems  to  exhaust  itself  and  lie  almost  dormant  for  the 
hundred  years  between  the  days  of  Wither  and  Suckling  and  the  days  of  Burns 
and  Cowper.  That  the  change  from  our  early  style  to  the  modern  brought  with 
it  at  first  a  loss  of  nature  and  simplicity  is  undeniable  ;  yet  the  bolder  and  wider 
scope  which  poetry  took  between  1620  and  1700,  and  the  successful  efforts  then 
made  to  gain  greater  clearness  in  expression,  in  their  results  have  been  no  slight 
compensation.  —  Transferred  from  Palgrave^s  Notes. 


LXXXV 
ODE  ON  THE  MORNING  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY 

This  is  the  month,  and  this  the  happy  morn 
Wherein  the  Son  of  Heaven's  Eternal  King 
Of  wedded  maid  and  virgin  mother  born, 
Our  great  redemption  from  above  did  bring ; 
For  so  the  holy  sages  once  did  sing 
That  He  our  deadly  forfeit  should  release, 
And  with  His  Father  work  us  a  perpetual  peace. 
.59 


60  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

That  glorious  Form,  that  Light  unsuff arable, 

And  that  far-beaming  blaze  of  Majesty 

Wherewith  He  wont  at  Heaven's  high  council  table 

To  sit  the  midst  of  Trinal  Unity, 

He  laid  aside ;  and,  here  with  us  to  be,  5 

Forsook  the  courts  of  everlasting  day, 

And  chose  with  us  a  darksome  house  of  mortal  clay. 

Say,  heavenly  Muse,  shall  not  thy  sacred  vein 

Afford  a  present  to  the  Infant  God  ? 

Hast  thou  no  verse,  no  hymn,  or  solemn  strain  10 

To  welcome  Him  to  this  His  new  abode, 

Now  while  the  heaven,  by  the  sun's  team  untrod, 

Hath  took  no  print  of  the  approaching  light, 

And  all  the  spangled  host  keep  watch  in  squadrons  bright  ? 

See  how  from  far,  upon  the  eastern  road,  15 

The  star-led  wizards  haste  with  odors  sweet : 

O  run,  prevent  them  with  thy  humble  ode 

And  lay  it  lowly  at  His  blessed  feet ; 

Have  thou  the  honor  first  thy  Lord  to  greet, 

And  join  thy  voice  unto  the  Angel  quire  20 

From  out  His  secret  altar  touch'd  with  hallow'd  fire. 

THE  HYMN 

It  was  the  winter  wild 

While  the  heaven-born  Child 

All  meanly  wrapt  in  the  rude  manger  lies ; 

Nature  in,  awe  to  Him  25 

Had  doff' d  her  gaudy  trim, 

With  her  great  Master  so  to  sympathize : 

It  was  no  season  then  for  her 

To  wanton  with  the  sun,  her  lusty  paramour. 

Only  with  speeches  fair  30 

She  woos  the  gentle  air 

To  hide  her  guilty  front  with  innocent  snow ; 


BOOK  SECOND  61 

And  on  her  naked  shame, 

Pollute  with  sinful  blame, 

The  saintly  veil  of  maiden  white  to  throw ; 

Confounded,  that  her  Maker's  eyes 

Should  look  so  near  upon  her  foul  deformities.  5 

But  He,  her  fears  to  cease, 

Sent  down  the  meek-eyed  Peace ; 

She,  crown'd  with  olive  green,  came  softly  sliding 

Down  through  the  turning  sphere, 

His  ready  harbinger,  10 

With  turtle  wing  the  amorous  clouds  dividing ; 

And  waving  wide  her  myrtle  wand, 

She  strikes  a  universal  peace  through  sea  and  land. 

No  war  or  battle's  sound 

Was  heard  the  world  around :  1 5 

The  idle  spear  and  shield  were  high  uphung ; 

The  hooke'd  chariot  stood 

Unstain'd  with  hostile  blood ; 

The  trumpet  spake  not  to  the  arme'd  throng ; 

And  kings  sat  still  with  awful  eye,  20 

As  if  they  surely  knew  their  sovran  Lord  was  by. 

But  peaceful  was  the  night 

Wherein  the  Prince  of  Light 

His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began : 

The  winds,  with  wonder  whist,  25 

Smoothly  the  waters  kist, 

Whispering  new  joys  to  the  mild  ocedn  — 

Who  now  hath  quite  forgot  to  rave, 

While  birds  of  calm  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed  wave. 

The  stars,  with  deep  amaze,  30 

Stand  fix'd  in  steadfast  gaze, 

Bending  one  way  their  precious  influence ; 

And  will  not  take  their  flight 


62  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

For  all  the  morning  light, 

Or  Lucifer  that  often  warn'd  them  thence ; 

But  in  their  glimmering  orbs  did  glow 

Until  their  Lord  Himself  bespake,  and  bid  them  go. 

And  though  the  shady  gloom  5 

Had  given  day  her  room, 

The  sun  himself  withheld  his  wonted  speed, 

And  hid  his  head  for  shame, 

As  his  inferior  flame 

The  new-enlighten'd  world  no  more  should  need;  10 

He  saw  a  greater  Sun  appear 

Than  his  bright  throne,  or  burning  axletree  could  bear. 

The  shepherds  on  the  lawn 

Or  ere  the  point  of  dawn 

Sate  simply  chatting  in  a  rustic  row ;  1 5 

Full  little  thought  they  than 

That  the  mighty  Pan 

Was  kindly  come  to  live  with  them  below ; 

Perhaps  their  loves,  or  else  their  sheep 

Was  all  that  did  their  silly  thoughts  so  busy  keep :  —     20 

When  such  music  sweet 

Their  hearts  and  ears  did  greet 

As  never  was  by  mortal  ringer  strook  — 

Divinely-warbled  voice 

Answering  the  stringed  noise,  25 

As  all  their  souls  in  blissful  rapture  took : 

The  air,  such  pleasure  loth  to  lose, 

With  thousand  echoes  still  prolongs  each  heavenly  dose. 

Nature,  that  heard  such  sound 

Beneath  the  hollow  round  30 

Of  Cynthia's  seat  the  airy  region  thrilling, 

Now  was  almost  won 

To  think  her  part  was  done, 

And  that  her  reign  had  here  its  last  fulfilling;; 


BOOK  SECOND  63 

She  knew  such  harmony  alone 

Could  hold  all  Heaven  and  Earth  in  happier  union. 

At  last  surrounds  their  sight 

A  globe  of  circular  light 

That  with  long  beams  the  shamefaced  night  array'd ;       5 

The  helme'd  Cherubim 

And  sworded  Seraphim 

Are  seen  in  glittering  ranks  with  wings  displayed, 

Harping  in  loud  and  solemn  quire 

With  unexpressive  notes,  to  Heaven's  newborn  Heir.      10 

Such  music  (as  't  is  said) 

Before  was  never  made 

But  when  of  old  the  Sons  of  Morning  sung, 

While  the  Creator  great 

His  constellations  set  1 5 

And  the  well-balanced  world  on  hinges  hung; 

And  cast  the  dark  foundations  deep, 

And  bid  the  weltering  waves  their  oozy  channel  keep. 

Ring  out,  ye  crystal  spheres ! 

Once  bless  our  human  ears,  20 

If  ye  have  power  to  touch  our  senses  so ; 

And  let  your  silver  chime 

Move  in  melodious  time ; 

And  let  the  bass  of  heaven's  deep  organ  blow ; 

And  with  your  ninefold  harmony  25 

Make  up  full  consort  to  the  angelic  symphony. 

For  if  such  holy  song 

Enwrap  our  fancy  long, 

Time  will  run  back,  and  fetch  the  age  of  gold ; 

And  speckled  Vanity  3° 

Will  sicken  soon  and  die, 

And  leprous  Sin  will  melt  from  earthly  mold ; 

And  Hell  itself  will  pass  away, 

And  leave  her  dolorous  mansions  to  the  peering  day. 


64  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Yea,  Truth  and  Justice  then 

Will  down  return  to  men, 

Orb'd  in  a  rainbow ;  and,  like  glories  wearing, 

Mercy  will  sit  between 

Throned  in  celestial  sheen,  5 

With  radiant  feet  the  tissued  clouds  down  steering ; 

And  Heaven,  as  at  some  festival, 

Will  open  wide  the  gates  of  her  high  palace  hall. 

But  wisest  Fate  says  No ; 

This  must  not  yet  be  so ;  10 

The  Babe  yet  lies  in  smiling  infancy 
That  on  the  bitter  cross 
Must  redeem  our  loss ; 
So  both  Himself  and  us  to  glorify : 

Yet  first,  to  those  ychain'd  in  sleep  1 5 

The  wakeful  trump  of  doom  must  thunder  through  the 
deep; 

With  such  a  horrid  clang 
As  on  Mount  Sinai  rang 

While  the  red  fire  and  smoldering  clouds  outbrake : 
The  aged  Earth  aghast  20 

With  terror  of  that  blast 
Shall  from  the  surface  to  the  center  shake, 
When,  at  the  world's  last  sessidn, 
The  dreadful  Judge  in  middle  air  shall  spread  His 
throne. 

And  then  at  last  our  bliss  25 

Full  and  perfect  is, 

But  now  begins ;  for  from  this  happy  day 

The  old  Dragon  underground, 

In  straiter  limits  bound, 

Not  half  so  far  casts  his  usurped  sway ;  30 

And,  wroth  to  see  his  kingdom  fail, 

Swinges  the  scaly  horror  of  his  folded  tail. 


BOOK  SECOND  65 

The  Oracles  are  dumb ; 

No  voice  or  hideous  hum 

Runs  through  the  arche'd  roof  in  words  deceiving. 

Apollo  from  his  shrine 

Can  no  more  divine,  .     5 

With  hollow  shriek  the  steep  of  Delphos  leaving : 

No  nightly  trance  or  breathed  spell 

Inspires  the  pale-eyed  priest  from  the  prophetic  cell. 

The  lonely  mountains  o'er 

And  the  resounding  shore  10 

A  voice  of  weeping  heard,  and  loud  lament ; 

From  haunted  spring  and  dale 

Edged  with  poplar  pale 

The  parting  Genius  is  with  sighing  sent ; 

With  flower-inwoven  tresses  torn  15 

The  Nymphs  in  twilight  shade  of  tangled  thickets  mourn. 

In  consecrated  earth 

And  on  the  holy  hearth 

The  Lars  and  Lemure's  moan  with  midnight  plaint ; 

In  urns,  and  altars  round  20 

A  drear  and  dying  sound 

Affrights  the  Flamens  at  their  service  quaint ; 

And  the  chill  marble  seems  to  sweat, 

While  each  peculiar  Power  forgoes  his  wonted  seat. 

Peor  and  Baalim  25 

Forsake  their  temples  dim, 

With  that  twice-batter'd  god  of  Palestine ; 

And  moone'd  Ashtaroth 

Heaven's  queen  and  mother  both, 

Now  sits  not  girt  with  tapers'  holy  shine ;  30 

The  Lybic  Hammon  shrinks  his  horn : 

In  vain  the  Tyrian  maids  their  wounded  Thammuz  mourn. 

And  sullen  Moloch,  fled, 
Hath  left  in  shadows  dread 


66  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

His  burning  idol  all  of  blackest  hue ; 

In  vain  with  cymbals'  ring 

They  call  the  grisly  king, 

In  dismal  dance  about  the  furnace  blue ; 

The  brutish  gods  of  Nile  as  fast,  5 

Isis,  and  Orus,  and  the  dog  Anubis,  haste. 

Nor  is  Osiris  seen 

In  Memphian  grove,  or  green, 

Trampling  the  unshower'd  grass  with  lowings  loud : 

Nor  can  he  be  at  rest  10 

Within  his  sacred  chest ; 

Nought  but  profoundest  Hell  can  be  his  shroud ; 

In  vain  with  timbrel'd  anthems  dark 

The  sable-stoled  sorcerers  bear  his  worshipt  ark. 

He  feels  from  Juda's  land  15 

The  dreaded  Infant's  hand ; 

The  rays  of  Bethlehem  blind  his  dusky  eyn ; 

Nor  all  the  gods  beside 

Longer  dare  abide, 

Not  Typhon  huge  ending  in  snaky  twine :  20 

Our  Babe,  to  show  His  Godhead  true, 

Can  in  His  swaddling  bands  control  the  damne'd  crew. 

So,  when  the  sun  in  bed 

Curtain'd  with  cloudy  red* 

Pillows  his  chin  upon  an  orient  wave,  25 

The  flocking  shadows  pale 

Troop  to  the  infernal  jail, 

Each  fetter'd  ghost  slips  to  his  several  grave ; 

And  the  yellow-skirted  fays 

Fly  after  the  night  steeds,  leaving  their  moon-loved 

maze.  30 

But  see !  the  Virgin  blest 

Hath  laid  her  Babe  to  rest ; 

Time  is,  our  tedious  song  should  here  have  ending : 


BOOK  SECOND  67 

Heaven's  youngest-teemed  star 
Hath  fix'd  her  polish'd  car, 

Her  sleeping  Lord  with  handmaid  lamp  attending : 
And  all  about  the  courtly  stable 

Bright-harness'd  Angels  sit  in  order  serviceable.  5 

/.  Milton 

LXXXVI 
SONG  FOR  ST.  CECILIA'S  DAY,  1687 

From  Harmony,  from  heavenly  Harmony 

This  universal  frame  began : 
When  Nature  underneath  a  heap 

Of  jarring  atoms  lay 

And  could  not  heave  her  head,  10 

The  tuneful  voice  was  heard  from  high, 

Arise,  ye  more  than  dead ! 
Then  cold  and  hot  and  moist  and  dry 
In  order  to  their  stations  leap, 

And  Music's  power  obey.  —  15 

From  harmony,  from  heavenly  harmony 

This  universal  frame  began : 

From  harmony  to  harmony 
Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran, 
The  diapason  closing  full  in  Man.  20 

What  passion  cannot  Music  raise  and  quell  ? 

When  Jubal  struck  the  chorded  shell 
His  listening  brethren  stood  around, 
And,  wondering,  on  their  faces  fell 
To  worship  that  celestial  sound.  25 

Less  than  a  god  they  thought  there  could  not  dwell 
Within  the  hollow  of  that  shell 
That  spoke  so  sweetly  and  so  well. 
What  passion  cannot  Music  raise  and  quell  ? 

The  trumpet's  loud  clangor  30 

Excites  us  to  arms, 


68  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

With  shrill  notes  of  anger 

And  mortal  alarms. 
The  double  double  double  beat 

Of  the  thundering  drum  — 

Cries  "  Hark !  the  foes  come :  5 

Charge,  charge,  't  is  too  late  to  retreat !  n 

The  soft  complaining  flute 

In  dying  notes  discovers 

The  woes  of  hopeless  lovers, 
Whose  dirge  is  whisper 'd  by  the  warbling  lute.  10 

Sharp  violins  proclaim 
Their  jealous  pangs  and  desperation, 
Fury,  frantic  indignation, 
Depth  of  pains,  and  height  of  passion 

For  the  fair  disdainful  dame.  15 

But  oh  !  what  art  can  teach, 
What  human  voice  can  reach 

The  sacred  organ's  praise  ? 
Notes  inspiring  holy  love, 
Notes  that  wing  their  heavenly  ways  20 

To  mend  the  choirs  above. 

Orpheus  could  lead  the  savage  race, 
And  trees  unrooted  left  their  place 

Sequacious  of  the  lyre : 

But  bright  Cecilia  raised  the  wonder  higher:  25 

When  to  her  Organ  vocal  breath  was  given 
An  Angel  heard,  and  straight  appeared  — 

Mistaking  Earth  for  Heaven. 

GRAND  CHORUS 
As  from  the  power  of  sacred  lays 

The  spheres  began  to  move,  30 

And  sung  the  great  Creator's  praise 

To  all  the  blest  above ; 
So  when  the  last  and  dreadful  hour 


BOOK  SECOND  69 

This  crumbling  pageant  shall  devour, 
The  trumpet  shall  be  heard  on  high, 
The  dead  shall  live,  the  living  die, 
And  Music  shall  untune  the  sky. 

J.  Dryden 

0        LXXXVII 
ON  THE  LATE  MASSACRE  IN  PIEDMONT 

Avenge,  O  Lord !  Thy  slaughter'd  saints,  whose  bones        5 

Lie  scatter'd  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold ; 

Even  them  who  kept  Thy  truth  so  pure  of  old 

When  all  our  fathers  worshipt  stocks  and  stones, 

Forget  not :  In  Thy  book  record  their  groans 

Who  were  Thy  sheep,  and  in  their  ancient  fold  10 

Slain  by  the  bloody  Piemontese  that  roll'd 

Mother  with  infant  down  the  rocks.    Their  moans 

The  vales  redoubled  to  the  hills,  and  they 

To  Heaven.    Their  martyr'd  blood  and  ashes  sow 

O'er  all  the  Italian  fields,  where  still  doth  sway  15 

The  triple  Tyrant :  that  from  these  may  grow 
A  hundredfold,  who,  having  learnt  Thy  way, 
Early  may  fly  the  Babylonian  woe. 

/.  Milton 

LXXXVIII 

HORATIAN  ODE  UPON  CROMWELL'S  RETURN 
FROM  IRELAND 

The  forward  youth  that  would  appear, 

Must  now  forsake  his  Muses  dear,  20 

Nor  in  the  shadows  sing 

ttis  numbers  languishing. 

T  is  time  to  leave  the  books  in  dust, 
And  oil  the  unuse'd  armor's  rust, 

Removing  from  the  wall  25 

The  corslet  of  the  hall. 


jo  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

So  restless  Cromwell  could  not  cease 
In  the  inglorious  arts  of  peace, 

But  through  adventurous  war 

Urge'd  his  active  star : 

And  like  the  three-fork'd  lightning,  first  5 

Breaking  the  clouds  where  it^vas  nurst, 

Did  thorough  his  own  Side 

His  fiery  way  divide : 

For  't  is  all  one  to  courage  high, 

The  emulous,  or  enemy ;  10 

And  with  such,  to  inclose 

Is  more  than  to  oppose ; 

Then  burning  through  the  air  he  went 
And  palaces  and  temples  rent ; 

And  Caesar's  head  at  last  15 

Did  through  his  laurels  blast. 

'T  is  madness  to  resist  or  blame 
The  face  of  angry  heaven's  flame ; 
And  if  we  would  speak  true, 

Much  to  the  Man  is  due  20 

Who,  from  his  private  gardens,  where 
He  lived  reserved  and  austere, 

(As  if  his  highest  plot 

To  plant  the  bergamot), 

Could  by  industrious  valor  climb  25 

To  ruin  the  great  work  of  time, 

And  cast  the  Kingdoms  old 

Into  another  mold ;  ,s» 

Though  Justice  against  Fate  complain, 

And  plead  the  ancient  Rights  in  vain  —  30 

But  those  do  hold  or  break 

As  men  are  strong  or  weak ; 


BOOK  SECOND  71 

Nature,  that  hateth  emptiness, 
Allows  of  penetration  less, 

And  therefore  must  make  room 

Where  greater  spirits  come. 

What  field  of  all  the  civil  war  5 

Where  his  were  not  the  deepest  scar? 

And  Hampton  shows  what  part 

He  had  of  wiser  art, 

Where,  twining  subtle  fears  with  hope, 

He  wove  a  net  of  such  a  scope  10 

That  Charles  himself  might  chase 

To  Carisbrook's  narrow  case, 

That  thence  the  Royal  actor  borne 
The  tragic  scaffold  might  adorn : 

While  round  the  arme*d  bands  15 

Did  clap  their  bloody  hands. 

He  nothing  common  did  or  mean 
Upon  that  memorable  scene, 

But  with  his  keener  eye 

The  ax's  edge  did  try ;  20 

Nor  call'd  the  Gods,  with  vulgar  spite, 
To  vindicate  his  helpless  right ; 

But  bow'd  his  comely  head 

Down,  as  upon  a  bed. 

—  This  was  that  memorable  hour  2  c 

Which  first  assured  the  forced  power : 

So  when  they  did  design 

The  Capitol's  first  line, 

A  Bleeding  Head,  where  they  begun, 

Did  fright  the  architects  to  run ;  30 

And  yet  in  that  the  State 

Foresaw  its  happy  fate ! 


72  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  now  the  Irish  are  ashamed 

To  see  themselves  in  one  year  tamed : 

So  much  one  man  can  do 

That  does  both  act  and  know. 

They  can  affirm  his  praises  best,  5 

And  have,  though  overcome,  confest 

How  good  he  is,  how  just 

And  fit  for  highest  trust. 

Nor  yet  grown  stiffer  with  command, 

But  still  in  the  Republic's  hand  —  10 

How  fit  he  is  to  sway 

That  can  so  well  obey ! 

He  to  the  Commons'  feet  presents 
A  Kingdom  for  his  first  year's  rents, 

And  (what  he  may)  forbears  15 

His  fame,  to  make  it  theirs : 

And  has  his  sword  and  spoils  ungirt 
To  lay  them  at  the  Public's  skirt. 

So  when  the  falcon  high 

Falls  heavy  from  the  sky,  20 

She,  having  kill'd,  no  more  doth  search 
But  on  the  next  green  bough  to  perch, 

Where,  when  he  first  does  lure, 

The  falconer  has  her  sure. 

—  What  may  not  then  our  Isle  presume  25 

While  victory  his  crest  does  plume? 

What  may  not  others  fear 

If  thus  he  crowns  each  year? 

As  Caesar  he,  erelong,  to  Gaul, 

To  Italy  an  Hannibal,  30 

And  to  all  States  not  free 

Shall  climacteric  be. 


BOOK  SECOND  73 

The  Pict  no  shelter  now  shall  find 
Within  his  parti-color'd  mind, 

But  from  this  valor  sad 

Shrink  underneath  the  plaid  — 

Happy,  if  in  the  tufted  brake  5 

The  English  hunter  him  mistake, 

Nor  lay  his  hounds  in  near 

The  Caledonian  deer. 

But  Thou,  the  War's  and  Fortune's  son, 

March  indefatigably  on ;  10 

And  for  the  last  effect 

Still  keep  the  sword  erect : 

Besides  the  force  it  has  to  fright 
The  spirits  of  the  shady  night, 

The  same  arts  that  did  gain  15 

A  power,  must  it  maintain. 

A.  Marvell 

LXXXIX 

LYCIDAS 
(Elegy  on  a  Friend  drowned  in  the  Irish  Channel,  1637) 

Yet  once  more,  O  ye  laurels,  and  once  more 

Ye  myrtles  brown,  with  ivy  never  sere, 

I  come  to  pluck  your  berries  harsh  and  crude, 

And  with  forced  fingers  rude  20 

Shatter  your  leaves  before  the  mellowing  year. 

Bitter  constraint  and  sad  occasion  dear 

Compels  me  to  disturb  your  season  due : 

For  Lycidas  is  dead,  dead  ere  his  prime, 

Young  Lycidas,  and  hath  not  left  his  peer.  25 

Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas  ?  he  knew 

Himself  to  sing,  and  build  the  lofty  rime. 

He  must  not  float  upon  his  watery  bier 

Unwept,  and  welter  to  the  parching  wind, 

Without  the  meed  of  some  melodious  tear.  30 


74  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Begin  then,  Sisters  of  the  sacred  well 
That  from  beneath  the  seat  of  Jove  doth  spring ; 
Begin,  and  somewhat  loudly  sweep  the  string. 
Hence  with  denial  vain  and  coy  excuse : 
So  may  some  gentle  Muse  5 

With  lucky  words  favor  my  destined  urn ; 
And  as  he  passes,  turn 
And  bid  fair  peace  be  to  my  sable  shroud. 

For  we  were  nursed  upon  the  selfsame  hill, 
Fed  the  same  flock  by  fountain,  shade,  and  rill :  10 

Together  both,  ere  the  high  lawns  appear'd 
Under  the  opening  eyelids  of  the  Morn, 
We  drove  afield,  and  both  together  heard 
What  time  the  gray-fly  winds  her  sultry  horn, 
Battening  our  flocks  with  the  fresh  dews  of  night,  i  $ 

Oft  till  the  star  that  rose  at  evening  bright 
Toward  heaven's  descent  had  sloped  his  westering  wheel. 
Meanwhile  the  rural  ditties  were  not  mute; 
Temper'd  to  the  oaten  flute 

Rough  Satyrs  danced,  and  Fauns  with  cloven  heel  20 

From  the  glad  sound  would  not  be  absent  long ; 
And  old  Damcetas  loved  to  hear  our  song. 

But,  oh  !  the  heavy  change,  now  thou  art  gone, 
Now  thou  art  gone,  and  never  must  return ! 
Thee,  Shepherd,  thee  the  woods  and  desert  caves  25 

With  wild  thyme  and  the  gadding  vine  o'ergrown, 
And  all  their  echoes,  mourn : 
The  willows  and  the  hazel  copses  green 
Shall  now  no  more  be  seen 

Fanning  their  joyous  leaves  to  thy  soft  lays  :  —  30 

As  killing  as  the  canker  to  the  rose, 
Or  taintworm  to  the  weanling  herds  that  graze, 
Or  frost  to  flowers,  that  their  gay  wardrobe  wear 
When  first  the  whitethorn  blows ; 
Such,  Lycidas,  thy  loss  to  shepherd's  ear.  35 


BOOK  SECOND  75 

Where  were  ye,  Nymphs,  when  the  remorseless  deep 
Closed  o'er  the  head  of  your  loved  Lycidas  ? 
For  neither  were  ye  playing  on  the  steep 
Where  your  old  bards,  the  famous  Druids,  lie, 
Nor  on  the  shaggy  top  of  Mona  high,  5 

Nor  yet  where  Deva  spreads  her  wizard  stream : 
Ay  me !  I  fondly  dream  — 

Had  ye  been  there  .  .  .    For  what  could  that  have  done? 
What  could  the  Muse  herself  that  Orpheus  bore, 
The  Muse  herself,  for  her  enchanting  son,  10 

Whom  universal  nature  did  lament, 
When  by  the  rout  that  made  the  hideous  roar 
His  gory  visage  down  the  stream  was  sent, 
Down  the  swift  Hebrus  to  the  Lesbian  shore  ? 

Alas  !  what  boots  it  with  uncessant  care  1 5 

To  tend  the  homely,  slighted,  shepherd's  trade 
And  strictly  meditate  the  thankless  Muse  ? 
Were  it  not  better  done,  as  others  use, 
To  sport  with  Amaryllis  in  the  shade, 
Or  with  the  tangles  of  Neaera's  hair  ?  20 

Fame  is  the  spur  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise 
(That  last  infirmity  of  noble  mind) 
To  scorn  delights,  and  live  laborious  days ; 
But  the  fair  guerdon  when  we  hope  to  find, 
And  think  to  burst  out  into  sudden  blaze,  25 

Comes  the  blind  Fury  with  the  abhorred  shears 
And  slits  the  thin-spun  life.    "But  not  the  praise " 
Phoebus  replied,  and  touch'd  my  trembling  ears ; 
"  Fame  is  no  plant  that  grows  on  mortal  soil, 
Nor  in  the  glistering  foil  30 

Set  off  to  the  world,  nor  in  broad  rumor  lies : 
But  lives  and  spreads  aloft  by  those  pure  eyes 
And  perfect  witness  of  all-judging  Jove ; 
As  he  pronounces  lastly  on  each  deed, 
Of  so  much  fame  in  heaven  expect  thy  meed."  35 


76  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

O  fountain  Arethuse,  and  thou  honor 'd  flood 
Smooth-sliding  Mincius,  crown'd  with  vocal  reeds, 
That  strain  I  heard  was  of  a  higher  mood. 
But  now  my  oat  proceeds, 

And  listens  to  the  herald  of  the  sea  5 

That  came  in  Neptune's  plea ; 
He  ask'd  the  waves,  and  ask'd  the  felon  winds, 
What  hard  mishap  hath  doom'd  this  gentle  swain  ? 
And  question'd  every  gust  of  rugged  wings 
That  blows  from  off  each  beaked  promontory :  10 

They  knew  not  of  his  story ; 
And  sage  Hippotadds  their  answer  brings, 
That  not  a  blast  was  from  his  dungeon  stray'd ; 
The  air  was  calm,  and  on  the  level  brine 
Sleek  Panope'  with  all  her  sisters  play'd.  15 

It  was  that  fatal  and  perfidious  bark 
Built  in  the  eclipse,  and  rigg'd  with  curses  dark, 
That  sunk  so  low  that  sacred  head  of  thine. 

Next  Camus,  reverend  sire,  went  footing  slow, 
His  mantle  hairy,  and  his  bonnet  sedge  20 

Inwrought  with  figures  dim,  and  on  the  edge 
Like  to  that  sanguine  flower  inscribed  with  woe : 
"  Ah  !  who  hath  reft,"  quoth  he,  "  my  dearest  pledge !  " 
Last  came,  and  last  did  go 

The  Pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake ;  25 

Two  massy  keys  he  bore  of  metals  twain 
(The  golden  opes,  the  iron  shuts  amain) ; 
He  shook  his  mitered  locks,  and  stern  bespake : 
"  How  well  could  I  have  spared  for  thee,  young  swain, 
Enow  of  such,  as  for  their  bellies'  sake  30 

Creep  and  intrude  and  climb  into  the  fold ! 
Of  other  care  they  little  reckoning  make 
Than  how  to  scramble  at  the  shearers'  feast, 
And  shove  away  the  worthy  bidden  guest. 
Blind  mouths  !  that  scarce  themselves  know  how  to  hold       35 


BOOK  SECOND  77 

A  sheephook,  or  have  learn'd  aught  else  the  least 

That  to  the  faithful  herdman's  art  belongs ! 

What  recks  it  them ?  What  need  they?  They  are  sped; 

And  when  they  list,  their  lean  and  flashy  songs 

Grate  on  their  scrannel  pipes  of  wretched  straw ;  5. 

The  hungry  sheep  look  up,  and  are  not  fed, 

But  swoln  with  wind  and  the  rank  mist  they  draw 

Rot  inwardly,  and  foul  contagion  spread : 

Besides  what  the  grim  wolf  with  privy  paw 

Daily  devours  apace,  and  nothing  said :  10 

—  But  that  two-handed  engine  at  the  door 

Stands  ready  to  smite  once,  and  smite  no  more." 

Return,  Alphdus ;  the  dread  voice  is  past 
That  shrunk  thy  streams ;  return,  Sicilian  Muse, 
And  call  the  vales,  and  bid  them  hither  cast  1 5 

Their  bells  and  flowerets  of  a  thousand  hues. 
Ye  valleys  low,  where  the  mild  whispers  use 
Of  shades,  and  wanton  winds,  and  gushing  brooks 
On  whose  fresh  lap  the  swart  star  sparely  looks ; 
Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamel'd  eyes  20 

That  on  the  green  turf  suck  the  honey'd  showers 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rathe  primrose  that  forsaken  dies, 
The  tufted  crow-toe,  and  pale  jessamine, 
The  white  pink,  and  the  pansy  freak'd  with  jet,  25 

The  glowing  violet, 

The  musk  rose,  and  the  well-attired  woodbine, 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears : 
Bid  amaranthus  all  his  beauty  shed,  30 

And  daffodillies  fill  their  cups  with  tears 
To  strew  the  laureat  hearse  where  Lycid  lies. 
For  so  to  interpose  a  little  ease, 
Let  our  frail  thoughts  dally  with  false  surmise :  — 
Ay  me !  whilst  thee  the  shores  and  sounding  seas  35 


78  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Wash  far  away,  —  where'er  thy  bones  are  hurl'd, 

Whether  beyond  the  stormy  Hebrides 

Where  thou  perhaps,  under  the  whelming  tide, 

Visitest  the  bottom  of  the  monstrous  world ; 

Or  whether  thou,  to  our  moist  vows  denied,  5 

Sleep'st  by  the  fable  of  Bellerus  old, 

Where  the  great  Vision  of  the  guarded  mount 

Looks  toward  Namancos  and  Bayona's  hold, 

—  Look  homeward,  Angel,  now,  and  melt  with  ruth : 

—  And,  O  ye  dolphins,  waft  the  hapless  youth!  10 

Weep  no  more,  woeful  shepherds,  weep  no  more, 
For  Lycidas,  your  sorrow,  is  not  dead, 
Sunk  though  he  be  beneath  the  watery  floor : 
So  sinks  the  day  star  in  the  ocean  bed, 
And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head  1 5 

And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new-spangled  ore 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky  : 
So  Lycidas  sunk  low,  but  mounted  high 
Through  the  dear  might  of  Him  that  walk'd  the  waves ; 
Where,  other  groves  and  other  streams  along,  20 

With  nectar  pure  his  oozy  locks  he  laves, 
And  hears  the  unexpressive  nuptial  song 
In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  joy  and  love. 
There  entertain  him  all  the  Saints  above 
In  solemn  troops,  and  sweet  societies,  25 

That  sing,  and  singing,  in  their  glory  move, 
And  wipe  the  tears  forever  from  his  eyes. 
Now,  Lycidas,  the  shepherds  weep  no  more ; 
Henceforth  thou  art  the  Genius  of  the  shore 
In  thy  large  recompense,  and  shalt  be  good  30 

To  all  that  wander  in  that  perilous  flood. 

Thus  sang  the  uncouth  swain  to  the  oaks  and  rills, 
While  the  still  morn  went  out  with  sandals  gray  ; 
He  touch'd  the  tender  stops  of  various  quills, 
With  eager  thought  warbling  his  Doric  lay :  35 


BOOK  SECOND  79 

And  now  the  sun  had  stretch'd  out  all  the  hills, 
And  now  was  dropt  into  the  western  bay : 
At  last  he  rose,  and  twitch'd  his  mantle  blue : 
To-morrow  to  fresh  woods,  and  pastures  new. 

/.  Milton 

XC 
ON  THE  TOMBS  IN  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY 

Mortality,  behold  and  fear  5 

What  a  change  of  flesh  is  here ! 

Think  how  many  royal  bones 

Sleep  within  these  heaps  of  stones ; 

Here  they  lie,  had  realms  and  lands, 

Who  now  want  strength  to  stir  their  hands,  10 

Where  from  their  pulpits  seal'd  with  dust 

They  preach,  "In  greatness  is  no  trust." 

Here 's  an  acre  sown  indeed 

With  the  richest  royalest  seed 

That  the  earth  did  e'er  suck  in  1 5 

Since  the  first  man  died  for  sin : 

Here  the  bones  of  birth  have  cried 

"  Though  gods  they  were,  as  men  they  died ! " 

Here  are  sands,  ignoble  things, 

Dropt  from  the  ruin'd  sides  of  kings :  20 

Here 's  a  world  of  pomp  and  state 

Buried  in  dust,  once  dead  by  fate. 

F.  Beaumont 

XCI 
THE  LAST  CONQUEROR 

Victorious  men  of  earth,  no  more 

Proclaim  how  wide  your  empires  are ; 
Though  you  bind-in  every  shore  25 

And  your  triumphs  reach  as  far 
As  night  or  day, 

Yet  you,  proud  monarchs,  must  obey 


8o  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  mingle  with  forgotten  ashes,  when 
Death  calls  ye  to  the  crowd  of  common  men. 

Devouring  Famine,  Plague,  and  War 

Each  able  to  undo  mankind, 

Death's  servile  emissaries  are ;  5 

Nor  to  these  alone  confined, 

He  hath  at  will 

More  quaint  and  subtle  ways  to  kill ; 
A  smile  or  kiss,  as  he  will  use  the  art, 
Shall  have  the  cunning  skill  to  break  a  heart.  10 

/.  Shirley 
XCII 
DEATH  THE  LEVELER 

The  glories  of  our  blood  and  state 

Are  shadows,  not  substantial  things ; 
There  is  no  armor  against  fate ; 

Death  lays  his  icy  hand  on  kings : 

Scepter  and  Crown  15 

Must  tumble  down, 
And  in  the  dust  be  equal  made 
With  the  poor  crooked  scythe  and  spade. 

Some  men  with  swords  may  reap  the  field, 

And  plant  fresh  laurels  where  they  kill :  20 

But  their  strong  nerves  at  last  must  yield ; 
They  tame  but  one  another  still : 
Early  or  late 
They  stoop  to  fate, 

And  must  give  up  their  murmuring  breath  25 

When  they,  pale  captives,  creep  to  death. 

The  garlands  wither  on  your  brow ; 

Then  boast  no  more  your  mighty  deeds ; 
Upon  Death's  purple  altar  now 

See  where  the  victor-victim  bleeds :  30 


BOOK  SECOND  81 

Your  heads  must  come 

To  the  cold  tomb; 
Only  the  actions  of  the  just 
Smell  sweet,  and  blossom  in  their  dust. 

/.  Shirley 

XCIII 
WHEN  THE  ASSAULT  WAS  INTENDED  TO  THE  CITY 

Captain,  or  Colonel,  or  Knight  in  Arms,  5 

Whose  chance  on  these  defenseless  doors  may  seize, 
If  deed  of  honor  did  thee  ever  please, 
Guard  them,  and  him  within  protect  from  harms. 

He  can  requite  thee ;  for  he  knows  the  charms 
That  call  fame  on  such  gentle  acts  as  these,  10 

And  he  can  spread  thy  name  o'er  lands  and  seas, 
Whatever  clime  the  sun's  bright  circle  warms. 

Lift  not  thy  spear  against  the  Muses'  bower : 

The  great  Emathian  conqueror  bid  spare 

The  house  of  Pindarus,  when  temple  and  tower  15 

Went  to  the  ground :  and  the  repeated  air 

Of  sad  Electra's  poet  had  the  power 

To  save  the  Athenian  walls  from  ruin  bare. 

/  Milton 

XCIV 
ON  HIS  BLINDNESS 

When  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent 

Ere  half  my  days,  in  this  dark  world  and  wide,  20 

And  that  one  talent  which  is  death  to  hide 

Lodged  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more  bent 

To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 

My  true  account,  lest  He  returning  chide, — 

Doth  God  exact  day-labor,  light  denied  ?  25 

I  fondly  ask :  —  But  Patience,  to  prevent 


82  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

That  murmur,  soon  replies ;  God  doth  not  need 
Either  man's  work,  or  His  own  gifts :  who  best 
Bear  His  mild  yoke,  they  serve  Him  best :  His  state 

Is  kingly ;  thousands  at  His  bidding  speed 

And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest :  —  5 

They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. 

/.  Milton 

XCV 
CHARACTER  OF  A  HAPPY  LIFE 

How  happy  is  he  born  and  taught 

That  serveth  not  another's  will ; 

Whose  armor  is  his  honest  thought 

And  simple  truth  his  utmost  skill !  10 

Whose  passions  not  his  masters  are, 
Whose  soul  is  still  prepared  for  death, 
Untied  unto  the  world  by  care 
Of  public  fame,  or  private  breath ; 

Who  envies  none  that  chance  doth  raise  15 

Nor  vice;  who  never  understood 

How  deepest  wounds  are  given  by  praise ; 

Nor  rules  of  state,  but  rules  of  good : 

Who  hath  his  life  from  rumors  freed, 

Whose  conscience  is  his  strong  retreat ;  20 

Whose  state  can  neither  flatterers  feed, 

Nor  ruin  make  oppressors  great ; 

Who  God  doth  late  and  early  pray 

More  of  His  grace  than  gifts  to  lend ; 

And  entertains  the  harmless  day  25 

With  a  religious  book  or  friend ; 

—  This  man  is  freed  from  servile  bands 
Of  hope  to  rise,  or  fear  to  fall; 


BOOK  SECOND  83 

Lord  of  himself,  though  not  of  lands ; 
And  having  nothing,  yet  hath  all. 

Sir  H.  Wotton 

XCVI 
THE  NOBLE  NATURE 

It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree 
In  bulk,  doth  make  Man  better  be; 
Or  standing  long  an  oak,  three  hundred  year,  5 

To  fall  a  log  at  last,  dry,  bald,  and  sere : 
A  lily  of  a  day 
Is  fairer  far  in  May, 
Although  it  fall  and  die  that  night  — 
It  was  the  plant  and  flower  of  Light.  10 

In  small  proportions  we  just  beauties  see ; 
And  in  short  measures  life  may  perfect  be. 

B.  Jonson 

XCVII 
THE  GIFTS  OF  GOD 

When  God  at  first  made  Man, 
Having  a  glass  of  blessings  standing  by ; 
Let  us  (said  He)  pour  on  him  all  we  can :  1 5 

Let  the  world's  riches,  which  dispersed  lie, 

Contract  into  a  span. 

So  strength  first  made  a  way ; 
Then  beauty  flow'd,  then  wisdom,  honor,  pleasure : 
When  almost  all  was  out,  God  made  a  stay,  20 

Perceiving  that  alone,  of  all  His  treasure, 

Rest  in  the  bottom  lay. 

For  if  I  should  (said  He) 
Bestow  this  jewel  also  on  My  creature, 
He  would  adore  My  gifts  instead  of  Me,  25 

And  rest  in  Nature,  not  the  God  of  Nature. 

So  both  should  losers  be. 


84  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Yet  let  him  keep  the  rest, 
But  keep  them  with  repining  restlessness : 
Let  him  be  rich  and  weary,  that  at  least, 
If  goodness  lead  him  not,  yet  weariness 

May  toss  him  to  My  breast.  5 

G.  Herbert 

XCVIII 
THE  RETREAT 

Happy  those  early  days,  when  I 

Shined  in  my  Angel-infancy  ! 

Before  I  understood  this  place 

Appointed  for  my  second  race, 

Or  taught  my  soul  to  fancy  aught  10 

But  a  white,  celestial  thought ; 

When  yet  I  had  not  walk'd  above 

A  mile  or  two  from  my  first  Love, 

And  looking  back,  at  that  short  space 

Could  see  a  glimpse  of  His  bright  face ;  15 

When  on  some  gilded  cloud  or  flower 

My  gazing  soul  would  dwell  an  hour, 

And  in  those  weaker  glories  spy 

Some  shadows  of  eternity ; 

Before  I  taught  my  tongue  to  wound  20 

My  conscience  with  a  sinful  sound, 

Or  had  the  black  art  to  dispense 

A  several  sin  to  every  sense, 

But  felt  through  all  this  fleshly  dress 

Bright  shoots  of  everlastingness.  25 

O  how  I  long  to  travel  back, 

And  tread  again  that  ancient  track ! 

That  I  might  once  more  reach  that  plain 

Where  first  I  left  my  glorious  train ; 

From  whence  th'  enlighten'd  spirit  sees  30 

That  shady  City  of  palm  trees  I 


BOOK  SECOND  85 

But  ah !  my  soul  with  too  much  stay 

Is  drunk,  and  staggers  in  the  way :  — 

Some  men  a  forward  motion  love, 

But  I  by  backward  steps  would  move ; 

And  when  this  dust  falls  to  the  urn,  5 

In  that  state  I  came,  return. 

H.  Vaughan 

XCIX 
TO  MR.  LAWRENCE 

Lawrence,  of  virtuous  father  virtuous  son, 

Now  that  the  fields  are  dank  and  ways  are  mire, 

Where  shall  we  sometimes  meet,  and  by  the  fire 

Help  waste  a  sullen  day,  what  may  be  won  10 

From  the  hard  season  gaining  ?  Time  will  run 
On  smoother,  till  Favonius  re-inspire 
The  frozen  earth,  and  clothe  in  fresh  attire 
The  lily  and  rose,  that  neither  sow'd  nor  spun. 

What  neat  repast  shall  feast  us,  light  and  choice,  1 5 

Of  Attic  taste,  with  wine,  whence  we  may  rise 
To  hear  the  lute  well  touched,  or  artful  voice 

Warble  immortal  notes  and  Tuscan  air  ? 
He  who  of  those  delights  can  judge,  and  spare 
To  interpose  them  oft,  is  not  unwise.  20 

/.  Milton 

C 
TO  CYRIACK  SKINNER 

Cyriack,  whose  grandsire,  on  the  royal  bench 
Of  British  Themis,  with  no  mean  applause 
Pronounced,  and  in  his  volumes  taught,  our  laws, 
Which  others  at  their  bar  so  often  wrench ; 

To-day  deep  thoughts  resolve  with  me  to  drench  25 

In  mirth,  that  after  no  repenting  draws; 


86  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Let  Euclid  rest,  and  Archimedes  pause, 

And  what  the  Swede  intend,  and  what  the  French. 

To  measure  life  learn  thou  betimes,  and  know 

Toward  solid  good  what  leads  the  nearest  way ; 

For  other  things  mild  Heaven  a  time  ordains,  5 

And  disapproves  that  care,  though  wise  in  show, 
That  with  superfluous  burden  loads  the  day, 
And,  when  God  sends  a  cheerful  hour,  refrains. 

/.  Milton 

ci 
A  HYMN  IN  PRAISE  OF  NEPTUNE 

Of  Neptune's  empire  let  us  sing, 

At  whose  command  the  waves  obey;  10 

To  whom  the  rivers  tribute  pay, 

Down  the  high  mountains  sliding ; 

To  whom  the  scaly  nation  yields 

Homage  for  the  crystal  fields 

Wherein  they  dwell ;  1 5 

And  every  sea-god  pays  a  gem 
Yearly  out  of  his  watery  cell, 
To  deck  great  Neptune's  diadem. 

The  Tritons  dancing  in  a  ring, 

Before  his  palace  gates  do  make  20 

The  water  with  their  echoes  quake, 

Like  the  great  thunder  sounding : 

The  sea-nymphs  chant  their  accents  shrill,  , 

And  the  Sirens  taught  to  kill 

With  their  sweet  voice,  25 

Make  every  echoing  rock  reply, 
Unto  their  gentle  murmuring  noise, 
The  praise  of  Neptune's  empery. 

T.  Campion 


BOOK  SECOND  87 

en 
HYMN  TO  DIANA 

Queen  and  Huntress,  chaste  and  fair, 

Now  the  sun  is  laid  to  sleep, 
Seated  in  thy  silver  chair 

State  in  wonted  manner  keep : 

Hesperus  entreats  thy  light,  5 

Goddess  excellently  bright. 

Earth,  let  not  thy  envious  shade 

Dare  itself  to  interpose ; 
Cynthia's  shining  orb  was  made 

Heaven  to  clear  when  day  did  close :  10 

Bless  us  then  with  wished  sight, 
Goddess  excellently  bright. 

Lay  thy  bow  of  pearl  apart 

And  thy  crystal-shining  quiver ; 

Give  unto  the  flying  hart  15 

Space  to  breathe,  how  short  soever : 
Thou  that  mak'st  a  day  of  night, 
Goddess  excellently  bright ! 

B.  Jonson 

cm 
WISHES  FOR  THE  SUPPOSED  MISTRESS 

Whoe'er  she  be, 

That  not  impossible  She  20 

That  shall  command  my  heart  and  me ; 

Where'er  she  lie, 

Lock'd  up  from  mortal  eye 

In  shady  leaves  of  destiny : 

Till  that  ripe  birth  25 

Of  studied  Fate  stand  forth, 

And  teach  her  fair  steps  tread  our  earth ; 


88  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Till  that  divine 

Idea  take  a  shrine 

Of  crystal  flesh,  through  which  to  shine : 

—  Meet  you  her,  my  Wishes, 

Bespeak  her  to  my  blisses,  5 

And  be  ye  call'd,  my  absent  kisses. 

I  wish  her  beauty 
That  owes  not  all  its  duty 
To  gaudy  tire,  or  glist'ring  shoe-tie : 

Something  more  than  10 

Taffeta  or  tissue  can, 

Or  rampant  feather,  or  rich  fan. 

A  face  that's  best 

By  its  own  beauty  drest, 

And  can  alone  commend  the  rest :  1 5 

A  face  made  up 

Out  of  no  other  shop 

Than  what  Nature's  white  hand  sets  ope. 

Sidneian  showers 

Of  sweet  discourse,  whose  powers  20 

Can  crown  old  Winter's  head  with  flowers. 

Whate'er  delight 

Can  make  day's  forehead  bright 

Or  give  down  to  the  wings  of  night. 

Soft  silken  hours,  25 

Open  suns,  shady  bowers ; 

'Bove  all,  nothing  within  that  lowers. 

Days,  that  need  borrow 

No  part  of  their  good  morrow 

From  a  fore-spent  night  of  sorrow:  30 


BOOK  SECOND  89 

Days,  that  in  spite 

Of  darkness,  by  the  light 

Of  a  clear  mind  are  day  all  night. 

Life,  that  dares  send 

A  challenge  to  his  end,  5 

And  when  it  comes,  say,  "Welcome,  friend." 

I  wish  her  store 

Of  worth  may  leave  her  poor 

Of  wishes ;  and  I  wish  —  no  more. 

Now,  if  Time  knows  10 

That  Her,  whose  radiant  brows 
Weave  them  a  garland  of  my  vows ; 

Her  that  dares  be 

What  these  lines  wish  to  see : 

I  seek  no  further,  it  is  She.  15 

'T  is  She,  and  here 

Lo !  I  unclothe  and  clear 

My  wishes'  cloudy  character. 

Such  worth  as  this  is 

Shall  fix  my  flying  wishes,  20 

And  determine  them  to  kisses. 

Let  her  full  glory, 

My  fancies,  fly  before  ye ; 

Be  ye  my  fictions :  —  but  her  story. 

R.  Crashaw 

CIV 
THE  GREAT  ADVENTURER 1 

Over  the  mountains  25 

And  over  the  waves, 
Under  the  fountains 
And  under  the  graves ; 

1  Preserved  in  Bishop  Percy's  «  Reliques  of  English  Poetry,"  1765. 


90  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Under  floods  that  are  deepest, 
Which  Neptune  obey ; 
Over  rocks  that  are  steepest 
Love  will  find  out  the  way. 

Where  there  is  no  place  5 

For  the  glow-worm  to  lie ; 

Where  there  is  no  space 

For  receipt  of  a  fly ; 

Where  the  midge  dares  not  venture 

Lest  herself  fast  she  lay ;  10 

If  love  come,  he  will  enter 

And  soon  find  out  his  way. 

You  may  esteem  him 

A  child  for  his  might ; 

Or  you  may  deem  him  15 

A  coward  from  his  flight ; 

But  if  she  whom  love  doth  honor 

Be  conceal'd  from  the  day, 

Set  a  thousand  guards  upon  her, 

Love  will  find  out  the  way.  20 

Some  think  to  lose  him 

By  having  him  confined ; 

And  some  do  suppose  him, 

Poor  thing,  to  be  blind ; 

But  if  ne'er  so  close  ye  wall  him,  25 

Do  *  the  best  that  you  may, 

Blind  love,  if  so  ye  call  him, 

Will  find  out  his  way. 

You  may  train  the  eagle 

To  stoop  to  your  fist ;  30 

Or  you  may  inveigle 

The  phoenix  of  the  east ; 

The  lioness,  ye  may  move  her 


BOOK  SECOND  91 

To  give  o'er  her  prey ; 

But  you  '11  ne'er  stop  a  lover : 

He  will  find  out  his  way. 

Anon. 

CV 

THE  PICTURE  OF  LITTLE  T.  C.  IN  A  PROSPECT 
OF  FLOWERS 

See  with  what  simplicity 

This  nymph  begins  her  golden  days !  5 

In  the  green  grass  she  loves  to  lie, 

And  there  with  her  fair  aspect  tames 

The  wilder  flowers,  and  gives  them  names ; 

But  only  with  the  roses  plays, 

And  them  does  tell  10 

What  colors  best  become  them,  and  what  smell. 

Who  can  foretell  for  what  high  cause 

This  darling  of  the  Gods  was  born  ? 

Yet  this  is  she  whose  chaster  laws 

The  wanton  Love  shall  one  day  fear,  15 

And,  under  her  command  severe, 

See  his  bow  broke,  and  ensigns  torn. 

Happy  who  can 
Appease  this  virtuous  enemy  of  man ! 

O  then  let  me  in  time  compound  20 

And  parley  with  those  conquering  eyes, 

Ere  they  have  tried  their  force  to  wound ; 

Ere  with  their  glancing  wheels  they  drive 

In  triumph  over  hearts  that  strive, 

And  them  that  yield  but  more  despise :  25 

Let  me  be  laid, 
Where  I  may  see  the  glories  from  some  shade. 

Meantime,  whilst  every  verdant  thing 
Itself  does  at  thy  beauty  charm, 


92  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Reform  the  errors  of  the  Spring ; 
Make  that  the  tulips  may  have  share 
Of  sweetness,  seeing  they  are  fair, 
And  roses  of  their  thorns  disarm ; 

But  most  procure  5 

That  violets  may  a  longer  age  endure. 

But  O  young  beauty  of  the  woods, 

Whom  Nature  courts  with  fruits  and  flowers, 

Gather  the  flowers,  but  spare  the  buds ; 

Lest  FLORA,  angry  at  thy  crime  10 

To  kill  her  infants  in  their  prime, 

Should  quickly  make  th'  example  yours ; 

And  ere  we  see  — 
Nip  in  the  blossom  —  all  our  hopes  and  thee. 

A.  Marvell 

CVI 
CHILD  AND  MAIDEN 

Ah,  Chloris !  could  I  now  but  sit  15 

As  unconcern'd  as  when 
Your  infant  beauty  could  beget 

No  happiness  or  pain ! 
When  I  the  dawn  used  to  admire, 

And  praised  the  coming  day,  20 

I  little  thought  the  rising  fire 

Would  take  my  rest  away. 

Your  charms  in  harmless  childhood  lay 

Like  metals  in  a  mine ; 
Age  from  no  face  takes  more  away  25 

Than  youth  conceal'd  in  thine. 
But  as  your  charms  insensibly 

To  their  perfection  prest, 
So  love  as  unperceived  did  fly, 

And  centered  in  my  breast.  30 


BOOK  SECOND  93 

My  passion  with  your  beauty  grew, 

While  Cupid  at  my  heart, 
Still  as  his  mother  favor'd  you, 

Threw  a  new  flaming  dart : 
Each  gloried  in  their  wanton  part ;  5 

To  make  a  lover,  he 
Employed  the  utmost  of  his  art  — 

To  make  a  beauty,  she. 

Sir  C.  Sedley 

CVII 
CONSTANCY 

I  cannot  change,  as  others  do, 

Though  you  unjustly  scorn,  10 

Since  that  poor  swain  that  sighs  for  you, 

For  you  alone  was  born ; 
No,  Phyllis,  no,  your  heart  to  move 

A  surer  way  I'll  try,  — 
And  to  revenge  my  slighted  love,  1 5 

Will  still  love  on,  and  die. 

When,  kilFd  with  grief,  Amintas  lies, 

And  you  to  mind  shall  call 
The  sighs  that  now  unpitied  rise, 

The  tears  that  vainly  fall,  20 

That  welcome  hour  that  ends  his  smart 

Will  then  begin  your  pain, 
For  such  a  faithful  tender  heart 

Can  never  break  in  vain. 

/.  Wilmot, 

Earl  of  Rochester 
CVIII 

COUNSEL  TO  GIRLS 

Gather  ye  rosebuds  while  ye  may,  25 

Old  Time  is  still  a-flying : 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  to-day, 

To-morrow  will  be  dying. 


94  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  glorious  Lamp  of  Heaven,  the  Sun, 

The  higher  he 's  a-getting 
The  sooner  will  his  race  be  run, 

And  nearer  he 's  to  setting. 

That  age  is  best  which  is  the  first,  5 

When  youth  and  blood  are  warmer ; 

But  being  spent,  the  worse,  and  worst 
Times,  still  succeed  the  former. 

Then  be  not  coy,  but  use  your  time ; 

And  while  ye  may,  go  marry :  10 

For  having  lost  but  once  your  prime, 

You  may  forever  tarry. 

R.  Herrick 

CIX 
TO  LUCASTA,  ON  GOING  TO  THE  WARS 

Tell  me  not,  Sweet,  I  am  unkind 

That  from  the  nunnery 
Of  thy  chaste  breast  and  quiet  mind,  15 

To  war  and  arms  I  fly. 

True,  a  new  mistress  now  I  chase, 

The  first  foe  in  the  field ; 
And  with  a  stronger  faith  embrace 

A  sword,  a  horse,  a  shield.  20 

Yet  this  inconstancy  is  such 

As  you  too  shall  adore ; 
I  could  not  love  thee,  Dear,  so  much, 

Loved  I  not  Honor  more. 

Colonel  Lovelace 

cx 
ELIZABETH  OF  BOHEMIA 

You  meaner  beauties  of  the  night,  25 

That  poorly  satisfy  our  eyes 
More  by  your  number  than  your  light, 


BOOK  SECOND  95 

You  common  people  of  the  skies, 
What  are  you,  when  the  Moon  shall  rise? 

You  curious  chanters  of  the  wood 

That  warble  forth  dame  Nature's  lays, 
Thinking  your  passions  understood  5 

By  your  weak  accents ;  what 's  your  praise 
When  Philomel  her  voice  doth  raise  ? 

You  violets  that  first  appear, 

By  your  pure  purple  mantles  known 
Like  the  proud  virgins  of  the  year,  10 

As  if  the  spring  were  all  your  own,  — 
What  are  you,  when  the  Rose  is  blown  ? 

So  when  my  Mistress  shall  be  seen 

In  form  and  beauty  of  her  mind, 
By  virtue  first,  then  choice,  a  Queen,  15 

Tell  me,  if  she  were  not  design'd 
Th'  eclipse  and  glory  of  her  kind  ? 

Sir  H.  Wotton 

CXI 
TO  THE  LADY  MARGARET  LEY 

Daughter  to  that  good  Earl,  once  President 

Of  England's  Council  and  her  Treasury, 

Who  lived  in  both,  unstain'd  with  gold  or  fee,  20 

And  left  them  both,  more  in  himself  content, 

Till  the  sad  breaking  of  that  Parliament 

Broke  him,  as  that  dishonest  victory 

At  Chaeronea,  fatal  to  liberty, 

Kill'd  with  report  that  old  man  eloquent;  —  25 

Though  later  born  than  to  have  known  the  days 
Wherein  your  father  flourish'd,  yet  by  you, 
Madam,  methinks  I  see  him  living  yet ; 


96  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

So  well  your  words  his  noble  virtues  praise, 
That  all  both  judge  you  to  relate  them  true, 
And  to  possess  them,  honor'd  Margaret. 

/.  Milton 

CXII 
THE  TRUE  BEAUTY 

He  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek 

Or  a  coral  lip  admires,  5 

Or  from  starlike  eyes  doth  seek 

Fuel  to  maintain  his  fires  ; 
As  old  Time  makes  these  decay, 
So  his  flames  must  waste  away. 

But  a  smooth  and  steadfast  mind,  10 

Gentle  thoughts,  and  calm  desires, 

Hearts  with  equal  love  combined, 
Kindle  never-dying  fires  :  — 

Where  these  are  not,  I  despise 

Lovely  cheeks  or  lips  or  eyes.  1 5 

T.  Carew 

CXIII 
TO  DIANEME 

Sweet,  be  not  proud  of  those  two  eyes 
Which  starlike  sparkle  in  their  skies ; 
Nor  be  you  proud,  that  you  can  see 
All  hearts  your  captives ;  yours  yet  free : 
Be  you  not  proud  of  that  rich  hair  20 

Which  wantons  with  the  lovesick  air ; 
Whenas  that  ruby  which  you  wear, 
Sunk  from  the  tip  of  your  soft  ear, 
Will  last  to  be  a  precious  stone 
When  all  your  world  of  beauty 's  gone.  25 

R.  Herriek 


BOOK  SECOND  97 

cxiv1 

Love  in  thy  youth,  fair  Maid,  be  wise ; 

Old  Time  will  make  thee  colder, 
And  though  each  morning  new  arise 

Yet  we  each  day  grow  older. 
Thou  as  Heaven  art  fair  and  young,  5 

Thine  eyes  like  twin  stars  shining ; 
But  ere  another  day  be  sprung 

All  these  will  be  declining. 
Then  winter  comes  with  all  his  fears, 

And  all  thy  sweets  shall  borrow ;  10 

Too  late  then  wilt  thou  shower  thy  tears,  — 

And  I  too  late  shall  sorrow  ! 

Anon. 

cxv 

Go,  lovely  Rose  ! 
Tell  her,  that  wastes  her  time  and  me, 

That  now  she  knows,  15 

When  I  resemble  her  to  thee, 
How  sweet  and  fair  she  seems  to  be. 

Tell  her  that 's  young 
And  shuns  to  have  her  graces  spied, 

That  hadst  thou  sprung  20 

In  deserts,  where  no  men  abide, 
Thou  must  have  uncommended  died. 

Small  is  the  worth 
Of  beauty  from  the  light  retired : 

Bid  her  come  forth,  25 

Suffer  herself  to  be  desired, 
And  not  blush  so  to  be  admired. 

1  Said  to  be  from  Walter  Porter's  "  Madrigals  and  Airs,"  1632. 


98  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Then  die !  that  she 
The  common  fate  of  all  things  rare 

May  read  in  thee : 

How  small  a  part  of  time  they  share 
That  are  so  wondrous  sweet  and  fair  !  5 

E.  Waller 

CXVI 
TO  CELIA 

Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes, 

And  I  will  pledge  with  mine ; 
Or  leave  a  kiss  but  in  the  cup 

And  I  '11  not  look  for  wine. 
The  thirst  that  from  the  soul  doth  rise  10 

Doth  ask  a  drink  divine ; 
But  might  I  of  Jove's  nectar  sup, 

I  would  not  change  for  thine. 

I  sent  thee  late  a  rosy  wreath, 

Not  so  much  honoring  thee  15 

As  giving  it  a  hope  that  there 

It  could  not  wither'd  be ; 
But  thou  thereon  didst  only  breathe 

And  sent'st  it  back  to  me ; 
Since  when  it  grows,  and  smells,  I  swear,  20 

Not  of  itself  but  thee ! 

B.  Jonson 

CXVII 
CHERRY-RIPE  * 

There  is  a  garden  in  her  face 

Where  roses  and  white  lilies  blow ; 

A  heavenly  paradise  is  that  place, 

Wherein  all  pleasant  fruits  do  grow ;  25 

1  These  verses  now  given  to  Thomas  Campion,  appear  in  his  undated  "  Fourth 
Book  of  Airs,"  published  after  February,  1617.  They  had  previously  been  pub* 
lished  in  "An  Hour's  Recreation  in  Music,"  1606, 


BOOK  SECOND  99 

There  cherries  grow  that  none  may  buy, 
Till  Cherry-Ripe  themselves  do  cry. 

Those  cherries  fairly  do  inclose 

Of  orient  pearl  a  double  row, 
Which  when  her  lovely  laughter  shows,  5 

They  look  like  rose-buds  fill'd  with  snow: 
Yet  them  no  peer  nor  prince  may  buy, 
Till  Cherry-Ripe  themselves  do  cry. 

Her  eyes  like  angels  watch  them  still ; 

Her  brows  like  bended  bows  do  stand,  10 

Threat'ning  with  piercing  frowns  to  kill 

All  that  approach  with  eye  or  hand 
These  sacred  cherries  to  come  nigh, 
Till  Cherry-Ripe  themselves  do  cry  ! 

Anon. 

CXVIII 
CORINNA'S  MAYING 

Get  up,  get  up  for  shame  !    The  blooming  morn  1 5 

Upon  her  wings  presents  the  god  unshorn. 

See  how  Aurora  throws  her  fair 

Fresh-quilted  colors  through  the  air : 

Get  up,  sweet  Slug-a-bed,  and  see 

The  dew  bespangling  herb  and  tree.  20 

Each  flower  has  wept,  and  bow'd  toward  the  east, 
Above  an  hour  since ;  yet  you  not  drest, 

Nay !  not  so  much  as  out  of  bed  ? 

When  all  the  birds  have  matins  said, 

And  sung  their  thankful  hymns :  't  is  sin,  25 

Nay,  profanation,  to  keep  in,  — 
Whenas  a  thousand  virgins  on  this  day 
Spring,  sooner  than  the  lark,  to  fetch  in  May. 

Rise ;  and  put  on  your  foliage,  and  be  seen 

To  come  forth,  like  the  Spring-time,  fresh  and  green        30 


loo  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  sweet  as  Flora.     Take  no  care 

For  jewels  for  your  gown,  or  hair : 

Fear  not ;  the  leaves  will  strew 

Gems  in  abundance  upon  you : 

Besides,  the  childhood  of  the  day  has  kept,  5 

Against  you  come,  some  orient  pearls  unwept : 

Come,  and  receive  them  while  the  light 

Hangs  on  the  dew-locks  of  the  night : 

And  Titan  on  the  eastern  hill 

Retires  himself,  or  else  stands  still  10 

Till  you  come  forth.  Wash,  dress,  be  brief  in  praying : 
Few  beads  are  best,  when  once  we  go  a  Maying. 

Come,  my  Corinna,  come ;  and  coming,  mark 
How  each  field  turns  a  street ;  each  street  a  park 

Made  green,  and  trimm'd  with  trees  :  see  how          1 5 

Devotion  gives  each  house  a  bough 

Or  branch  :  Each  porch,  each  door,  ere  this, 

An  ark,  a  tabernacle  is, 
Made  up  of  white-thorn  neatly  interwove ; 
As  if  here  were  those  cooler  shades  of  love.  20 

Can  such  delights  be  in  the  street, 

And  open  fields,  and  we  not  see  't  ? 

Come  we  '11  abroad :  and  let 's  obey 

The  proclamation  made  for  May : 

And  sin  no  more,  as  we  have  done,  by  staying ;  25 

But,  my  Corinna,  come,  let 's  go  a  Maying. 

There  's  not  a  budding  boy,  or  girl,  this  day, 
But  is  got  up,  and  gone  to  bring  in  May. 

A  deal  of  youth,  ere  this,  is  come 

Back,  and  with  white-thorn  laden  home.  30 

Some  have  dispatch'd  their  cakes  and  cream, 

Before  that  we  have  left  to  dream : 
And  some  have  wept,  and  woo'd,  and  plighted  troth, 
And  chose  their  priest,  ere  we  can  cast  off  sloth : 


BOOK  SECOND        ;  ','  >>/       ;•  -    — 101 

Many  a  green-gown  has  been  given ; 

Many  a  kiss,  both  odd  and  even : 

Many  a  glance  too  has  been  sent 

From  out  the  eye,  Love's  firmament : 
Many  a  jest  told  of  the  keys  betraying  S 

This  night,  and  locks  pick'd:  — Yet  we're  not  a  Maying. 

—  Come,  let  us  go,  while  we  are  in  our  prime ; 
And  take  the  harmless  folly  of  the  time ! 

We  shall  grow  old  apace,  and  die 

Before  we  know  our  liberty.  10 

Our  life  is  short ;  and  our  days  run 

As  fast  away  as  does  the  sun :  — 
And  as  a  vapor,  or  a  drop  of  rain 
Once  lost,  can  ne'er  be  found  again : 

So  when  or  you  or  I  are  made  15 

A  fable,  song,  or  fleeting  shade ; 

All  love,  all  liking,  all  delight 

Lies  drown'd  with  us  in  endless  night. 
Then  while  time  serves,  and  we  are  but  decaying, 
Come,  my  Corinna !  come,  let 's  go  a  Maying.  20 

R.  Herrick 

CXIX 

THE  POETRY  OF  DRESS 
I 

A  sweet  disorder  in  the  dress 

Kindles  in  clothes  a  wantonness :  — 

A  lawn  about  the  shoulders  thrown 

Into  a  fine  distraction,  — 

An  erring  lace,  which  here  and  there  25 

Enthralls  the  crimson  stomacher,  — 

A  cuff  neglectful,  and  thereby 

Ribbands  to  flow  confusedly,  — 

A  winning  wave,  deserving  note, 


:THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

In  the  tempestuous  petticoat,  — 
A  careless  shoe  string,  in  whose  tie 
I  see  a  wild  civility,  — 
Do  more  bewitch  me,  than  when  art 
Is  too  precise  in  every  part. 

R.  Herrick 

CXX 

2 

Whenas  in  silks  my  Julia  goes 

Then,  then  (methinks)  how  sweetly  flows 

That  liquefaction  of  her  clothes. 

Next,  when  I  cast  mine  eyes  and  see 
That  brave  vibration  each  way  free ; 

0  how  that  glittering  taketh  me  ! 

R.  Herrick 

CXXI1 

3 
My  Love  in  her  attire  doth  show  her  wit, 

It  doth  so  well  become  her : 
For  every  season  she  hath  dressings  fit, 

For  Winter,  Spring,  and  Summer. 
No  beauty  she  doth  miss 
When  all  her  robes  are  on : 
But  Beauty's  self  she  is 
When  all  her  robes  are  gone. 

Anon. 

CXXII 
ON  A  GIRDLE 

That  which  her  slender  waist  confined 
Shall  now  my  joyful  temples  bind  : 

1  From  Davison's  "  Poetical  Rhapsody,"  1602. 


BOOK  SECOND  103 

No  monarch  but  would  give  his  crown 
His  arms  might  do  what  this  has  done. 

It  was  my  Heaven's  extremest  sphere, 

The  pale  which  held  that  lovely  deer: 

My  joy,  my  grief,  my  hope,  my  love  5 

Did  all  within  this  circle  move. 

A  narrow  compass !  and  yet  there 
Dwelt  all  that 's  good,  and  all  that 's  fair : 
Give  me  but  what  this  ribband  bound, 
Take  all  the  rest  the  Sun  goes  round.  10 

E.  Waller 

CXXIII 
A  MYSTICAL  ECSTASY 

E'en  like  two  little  bank-dividing  brooks, 

That  wash  the  pebbles  with  their  wanton  streams, 

And  having  ranged  and  search'd  a  thousand  nooks, 
Meet  both  at  length  in  silver-breasted  Thames, 
Where  in  a  greater  current  they  conjoin :  15 

So  I  my  Best-Beloved's  am ;  so  He  is  mine. 

E'en  so  we  met ;  and  after  long  pursuit, 

E'en  so  we  join'd ;  we  both  became  entire ; 

No  need  for  either  to  renew  a  suit, 

For  I  was  flax  and  he  was  flames  of  fire :  20 

Our  firm-united  souls  did  more  than  twine ; 

So  I  my  Best-Belove*d's  am ;  so  He  is  mine. 

If  all  those  glittering  Monarchs  that  command 
The  servile  quarters  of  this  earthly  ball, 

Should  tender,  in  exchange,  their  shares  of  land,  25 

I  would  not  change  my  fortunes  for  them  all : 
Their  wealth  is  but  a  counter  to  my  coin : 

The  world  's  but  theirs ;  but  my  Beloved  's  mine. 

F.  Quarles 


104  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CXXIV 
TO  ANTHEA  WHO  MAY  COMMAND  HIM  ANYTHING 

Bid  me  to  live,  and  I  will  live 

Thy  Protestant  to  be : 
Or  bid  me  love,  and  I  will  give 

A  loving  heart  to  thee. 

A  heart  as  soft,  a  heart  as  kind,  5 

A  heart  as  sound  and  free 
As  in  the  whole  world  thou  canst  find, 

That  heart  I  '11  give  to  thee. 

Bid  that  heart  stay,  and  it  will  stay, 

To  honor  thy  decree :  10 

Or  bid  it  languish  quite  away, 
And  't  shall  do  so  for  thee. 

Bid  me  to  weep,  and  I  will  weep 

While  I  have  eyes  to  see  : 
And  having  none,  yet  I  will  keep  15 

A  heart  to  weep  for  thee. 

Bid  me  despair,  and  I  '11  despair, 

Under  that  cypress  tree : 
Or  bid  me  die,  and  I  will  dare 

E'en  Death,  to  die  for  thee.  20 

Thou  art  my  life,  my  love,  my  heart, 

The  very  eyes  of  me, 
And  hast  command  of  every  part, 

To,  live  and  die  for  thee. 

R.  Herrick 

CXXV1 

Love  not  me  for  comely  grace,  25 

For  my  pleasing  eye  or  face, 

Nor  for  any  outward  part, 

No,  nor  for  my  constant  heart,  — 

1  From  John  Wilbye's  «  Second  Set  of  Madrigals,"  1609. 


BOOK  SECOND  105 

For  those  may  fail,  or  turn  to  ill, 

So  thou  and  I  shall  sever : 
Keep  therefore  a  true  woman's  eye 
And  love  me  still,  but  know  not  why  — 

So  hast  thou  the  same  reason  still  5 

To  dote  upon  me  ever  ! 

Anon. 

cxxvi 

Not,  Celia,  that  I  juster  am 

Or  better  than  the  rest ; 
For  I  would  change  each  hour,  like  them, 

Were  not  my  heart  at  rest.  10 

But  I  am  tied  to  very  thee 

By  every  thought  I  have ; 
Thy  face  I  only  care  to  see, 

Thy  heart  I  only  crave. 

All  that  in  woman  is  adored  15 

In  thy  dear  self  I  find  — 
For  the  whole  sex  can  but  afford 

The  handsome  and  the  kind. 

Why  then  should  I  seek  further  store, 

And  still  make  love  anew  ?  20 

When  change  itself  can  give  no  more, 

*T  is  easy  to  be  true. 

Sir  C.  Sedley 

CXXVII 
TO  ALTHEA  FROM  PRISON 

When  Love  with  unconfine*d  wings 

Hovers  within  my  gates, 
And  my  divine  Althea  brings  25 

To  whisper  at  the  grates ; 
When  I  lie  tangled  in  her  hair 

And  fetter'd  to  her  eye, 


io6  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  Gods  that  wanton  in  the  air 
Know  no  such  liberty. 

When  flowing  cups  run  swiftly  round 

With  no  allaying  Thames, 
Our  careless  heads  with  roses  bound,  5 

Our  hearts  with  loyal  flames ; 
When  thirsty  grief  in  wine  we  steep, 

When  healths  and  draughts  go  free  — 
Fishes  that  tipple  in  the  deep 

Know  no  such  liberty.  10 

When  (like  committed  linnets)  I 

With  shriller  throat  shall  sing 
The  sweetness,  mercy,  majesty 

And  glories  of  my  King ; 
When  I  shall  voice  aloud  how  good  15 

He  is,  how  great  should  be, 
Enlarged  winds,  that  curl  the  flood, 

Know  no  such  liberty. 

Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage ;  20 

Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 

That  for  an  hermitage ; 
If  I  have  freedom  in  my  love 

And  in  my  soul  am  free, 
Angels  alone,  that  soar  above,  25 

Enjoy  such  liberty. 

Colonel  Lovelace 

CXXVIII 
TO  LUCASTA,  GOING  BEYOND  THE  SEAS 

If  to  be  absent  were  to  be 

Away  from  thee ; 
Or  that  when  I  am  gone 
You  or  I  were  alone ;  30 


BOOK  SECOND  107 

Then,  my  Lucasta,  might  I  crave 
Pity  from  blustering  wind,  or  swallowing  wave. 

But  I  '11  not  sigh  one  blast  or  gale 

To  swell  my  sail, 

Or  pay  a  tear  to  'suage  5 

The  foaming  blue-god's  rage ; 
For  whether  he  will  let  me  pass 
Or  no,  I  'm  still  as  happy  as  I  was. 

Though  seas  and  land  betwixt  us  both, 

Our  faith  and  troth,  10 

Like  separated  souls, 
All  time  and  space  controls : 
Above  the  highest  sphere  we  meet 
Unseen,  unknown,  and  greet  as  Angels  greet. 

So  then  we  do  anticipate  15 

Our  after-fate, 
And  are  alive  i'  the  skies, 
If  thus  our  lips  and  eyes 
Can  speak  like  spirits  unconfined 

In  Heaven,  their  earthy  bodies  left  behind.  20 

Colonel  Lovelace 

CXXIX 
ENCOURAGEMENTS  TO  A  LOVER 

Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover? 

Prithee,  why  so  pale? 
Will,  if  looking  well  can't  move  her, 

Looking  ill  prevail  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  pale?  25 

Why  so  dull  and  mute,  young  sinner? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute? 
Will,  when  speaking  well  can't  win  her, 

Saying  nothing  do  't  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute?  30 


io8  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Quit,  quit,  for  shame  !  this  will  not  move, 

This  cannot  take  her ; 
If  of  herself  she  will  not  love, 

Nothing  can  make  her : 

The  D— 1  take  her !  5 

SirJ.  Suckling 

cxxx 
A  SUPPLICATION 

Awake,  awake,  my  Lyre ! 
And  tell  thy  silent  master's  humble  tale 

In  sounds  that  may  prevail ; 
Sounds  that  gentle  thoughts  inspire : 

Though  so  exalted  she  10 

And  I  so  lowly  be 
Tell  her,  such  different  notes  make  all  thy  harmony. 

Hark,  how  the  strings  awake ! 
And,  though  the  moving  hand  approach  not  near, 

Themselves  with  awful  fear  15 

A  kind  of  numerous  trembling  make. 

Now  all  thy  forces  try ; 

Now  all  thy  charms  apply ; 
Revenge  upon  her  ear  the  conquests  of  her  eye. 

Weak  Lyre  !  thy  virtue  sure  20 

Is  useless  here,  since  thou  art  only  found 

To  cure,  but  not  to  wound, 
And  she  to  wound,  but  not  to  cure. 

Too  weak  too  wilt  thou  prove 

My  passion  to  remove ;  25 

Physic  to  other  ills,  thou  'rt  nourishment  to  Love. 

Sleep,  sleep  again,  my  Lyre ! 
For  thou  canst  never  tell  my  humble  tale 

In  sounds  that  will  prevail, 
Nor  gentle  thoughts  in  her  inspire ;  30 


BOOK  SECOND  109 

All  thy  vain  mirth  lay  by, 
Bid  thy  strings  silent  lie, 
Sleep,  sleep  again,  my  Lyre,  and  let  thy  master  die. 

A.  Cow  ley 
CXXXI 
THE  MANLY  HEART 

Shall  I,  wasting  in  despair, 

Die  because  a  woman  's  fair  ?  5 

Or  make  pale  my  cheeks  with  care 

'Cause  another's  rosy  are  ? 

Be  she  fairer  than  the  day 

Or  the  flowery  meads  in  May  — 

If  she  think  not  well  of  me  10 

What  care  I  how  fair  she  be? 

Shall  my  silly  heart  be  pined 

'Cause  I  see  a  woman  kind ; 

Or  a  well  disposed  nature 

Joined  with  a  lovely  feature?  15 

Be  she  meeker,  kinder  than 

Turtle-dove  or  pelican ; 

If  she  be  not  so  to  me 

What  care  I  how  kind  she  be  ? 

Shall  a  woman's  virtues  move  20 

Me  to  perish  for  her  love  ? 

Or  her  well-deservings  known 

Make  me  quite  forget  mine  own  ? 

Be  she  with  that  goodness  blest 

Which  may  merit  name  of  Best ;  25 

If  she  be  not  such  to  me, 

What  care  I  how  good  she  be  ? 

'Cause  her  fortune  seems  too  high, 

Shall  I  play  the  fool  and  die  ? 

She  that  bears  a  noble  mind  30 

If  not  outward  helps  she  find, 


no  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Thinks  what  with  them  he  would  do 
Who  without  them  dares  her  woo ; 
And  unless  that  mind  I  see, 
What  care  I  how  great  she  be? 

Great  or  good,  or  kind  or  fair,  5 

I  will  ne'er  the  more  despair ; 

If  she  love  me,  this  believe, 

I  will  die  ere  she  shall  grieve ; 

If  she  slight  me  when  I  woo, 

I  can  scorn  and  let  her  go ;  ic 

For  if  she  be  not  for  me, 
What  care  I  for  whom  she  be  ? 

G.  Wither 
CXXXII 

MELANCHOLY 

Hence,  all  you  vain  delights, 

As  short  as  are  the  nights 

Wherein  you  spend  your  folly :  J  5 

There 's  naught  in  this  life  sweet 

If  man  were  wise  to  see  't, 

But  only  melancholy, 

O  sweetest  Melancholy ! 

Welcome,  folded  arms,  and  fixe'd  eyes,  20 

A  sigh  that  piercing  mortifies, 
A  look  that 's  fasten'd  to  the  ground, 
A  tongue  chain'd  up  without  a  sound ! 
Fountain-heads  and  pathless  groves, 
Places  which  pale  passion  loves !  25 

Moonlight  walks,  when  all  the  fowls 
Are  warmly  housed  save  bats  and  owls ! 
A  midnight  bell,  a  parting  groan  ! 
These  are  the  sounds  we  feed  upon ; 
Then  stretch  our  bones  in  a  still  gloomy  valley ;  30 

Nothing  's  so  dainty  sweet  as  lovely  melancholy. 

/.  Fletcher 


BOOK  SECOND  in 

CXXXIII 

FORSAKEN1 

0  waly  waly  up  the  bank, 

And  waly  waly  down  the  brae, 
And  waly  waly  yon  burn-side 

Where  I  and  my  Love  wont  to  gae ! 

1  leant  my  back  unto  an  aik,  5 

I  thought  it  was  a  trusty  tree ; 
But  first  it  bow'd,  and  syne  it  brak, 
Sae  my  true  Love  did  lichtly  me. 

O  waly  waly,  but  love  be  bonny 

A  little  time  while  it  is  new ;  10 

But  when  't  is  auld,  it  waxeth  cauld 

And  fades  awa'  like  morning  dew. 
Or  wherefore  should  I  busk  my  head  ? 

Or  wherefore  should  I  kame  my  hair  ? 
For  my  true  Love  has  me  forsook,  15 

And  says  he  '11  never  loe  me  mair. 

Now  Arthur-seat  sail  be  my  bed ; 

The  sheets  shall  ne'er  be  prest  by  me : 
Saint  Anton's  well  sail  be  my  drink, 

Since  my  true  Love  has  forsaken  me.  20 

Marti'mas  wind,  when  wilt  thou  blaw 

And  shake  the  green  leaves  aff  the  tree  ? 
O  gentle  Death,  when  wilt  thou  come  ? 

For  of  my  life  I  am  wearie. 

'T  is  not  the  frost  that  freezes  fell,  25 

Nor  blawing  snaw's  inclemencie ; 
T  is  not  sic  cauld  that  makes  me  cry, 

But  my  Love's  heart  grown  cauld  to  me. 
When  we  came  in  by  Glasgow  town 

We  were  a  comely  sight  to  see ;  30 

1  Preserved  in  Percy's  "  Reliques  of  English  Poetry,"  1765. 


112  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

My  Love  was  clad  in  the  black  velvet, 
And  I  myself  in  cramasie. 

But  had  I  wist,  before  I  kist, 

That  love  had  been  sae  ill  to  win ; 
I  had  lockt  my  heart  in  a  case  of  gowd  5 

And  pinn'd  it  with  a  siller  pin. 
And,  O  !  if  my  young  babe  were  born, 

And  set  upon  the  nurse's  knee, 
And  I  mysell  were  dead  and  gane, 

And  the  green  grass  growing  over  me !  10 

Anon. 

CXXXIV  l 

Upon  my  lap  my  sovereign  sits 
And  sucks  upon  my  breast ; 
Meantime  his  love  maintains  my  life 
And  gives  my  sense  her  rest. 

Sing  lullaby,  my  little  boy,  15 

Sing  lullaby,  mine  only  joy ! 

When  thou  hast  taken  thy  repast, 

Repose,  my  babe,  on  me ; 

So  may  thy  mother  and  thy  nurse 

Thy  cradle  also  be.  20 

Sing  lullaby,  my  little  boy, 

Sing  lullaby,  mine  only  joy  ! 

I  grieve  that  duty  doth  not  work 

All,  that  my  wishing  would, 

Because  I  would  not  be  to  thee  25 

But  in  the  best  I  should. 

Sing  lullaby,  my  little  boy, 

Sing  lullaby,  mine  only  joy  ! 

Yet  as  I  am,  and  as  I  may, 

I  must  and  will  be  thine,  3° 

-  From  Martin  Peerson's  "  Private  Music,"  1620. 


BOOK  SECOND  113 

Though  all  too  little  for  thyself 
Vouchsafing  to  be  mine. 

Sing  lullaby,  my  little  boy, 

Sing  lullaby,  mine  only  joy ! 

Anon. 

cxxxv 
FAIR  HELEN i 

I  wish  I  were  where  Helen  lies ;  5 

Night  and  day  on  me  she  cries ; 
O  that  I  were  where  Helen  lies 
On  fair  Kirconnell  lea ! 

Curst  be  the  heart  that  thought  the  thought, 
And  curst  the  hand  that  fired  the  shot,  10 

When  in  my  arms  burd  Helen  dropt, 
And  died  to  succor  me ! 

0  think  na  but  my  heart  was  sair 

When  my  Love  dropt  down  and  spak  nae  mair ! 

1  laid  her  down  wi'  meikle  care  15 

On  fair  Kirconnell  lea. 

As  I  went  down  the  water-side, 
None  but  my  foe  to  be  my  guide, 
None  but  my  foe  to  be  my  guide, 

On  fair  Kirconnell  lea ;  20 

I  lighted  down  my  sword  to  draw, 
I  hacked  him  in  pieces  sma', 
I  hacked  him  in  pieces  sma', 

For  her  sake  that  died  for  me. 

0  Helen  fair,  beyond  compare !  25 

1  '11  make  a  garland  of  thy  hair 
Shall  bind  my  heart  for  evermair 

Until  the  day  I  die. 

From  Scott's  "  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,"  1802-1803. 


H4  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

O  that  I  were  where  Helen  lies ! 
Night  and  day  on  me  she  cries ; 
Out  of  my  bed  she  bids  me  rise, 

Says,  "  Haste  and  come  to  me !  " 

0  Helen  fair !  O  Helen  chaste  !  5 
If  I  were  with  thee,  I  were  blest, 

Where  thou  lies  low  and  takes  thy  rest 
On  fair  Kirconnell  lea. 

1  wish  my  grave  were  growing  green, 

A  winding-sheet  drawn  ower  my  een,  10 

And  I  in  Helen's  arms  lying, 
On  fair  Kirconnell  lea. 

I  wish  I  were  where  Helen  lies ; 
Night  and  day  on  me  she  cries ; 
And  I  am  weary  of  the  skies,  1 5 

Since  my  Love  died  for  me. 

Anon. 

CXXXVI 

THE  TWA  CORBIES1 
As  I  was  walking  all  alane 
I  heard  twa  corbies  making  a  mane ; 
The  tane  unto  the  t'other  say, 
"  Where  sail  we  gang  and  dine  to-day  ?  "  20 

11 —  In  behint  yon  auld  fail  dyke, 
I  wot  there  lies  a  new-slain  Knight ; 
And  naebody  kens  that  he  lies  there, 
But  his  hawk,  his  hound,  and  lady  fair. 

"  His  hound  is  to  the  hunting  gane,  25 

His  hawk  to  fetch  the  wild-fowl  hame, 

1  From  Scott's  "Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,"  1802-1803.    An  older 
version  appeared  in  Ravenscroft's  "  Melismata,"  1611. 


BOOK  SECOND  115 

His  lady  's  ta'en  another  mate, 
So  we  may  mak  our  dinner  sweet. 

"  Ye  '11  sit  on  his  white  hause-bane, 

And  I  '11  pick  out  his  bonnie  blue  een : 

Wi'  ae  lock  o'  his  gowden  hair  5 

We  '11  theek  our  nest  when  it  grows  bare. 

"  Mony  a  one  for  him  makes  mane, 
But  nane  sail  ken  where  he  is  gane ; 
O'er  his  white  banes,  when  they  are  bare, 
The  wind  sail  blaw  for  evermair."  10 

Anon. 

CXXXVII 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MR.  WILLIAM  HERVEY 

It  was  a  dismal  and  a  fearful  night,  — 

Scarce  could  the  Morn  drive  on  th'  unwilling  light, 

When  sleep,  death's  image,  left  my  troubled  breast, 

By  something  liker  death  possest. 
My  eyes  with  tears  did  uncommanded  flow,  15 

And  on  my  soul  hung  the  dull  weight 

Of  some  intolerable  fate. 
What  bell  was  that  ?  Ah  me !  Too  much  I  know  ! 

My  sweet  companion,  and  my  gentle  peer, 

Why  hast  thou  left  me  thus  unkindly  here,  20 

Thy  end  forever,  and  my  life,  to  moan  ? 

O  thou  hast  left  me  all  alone  ! 
Thy  soul  and  body,  when  death's  agony 

Besieged  around  thy  noble  heart, 

Did  not  with  more  reluctance  part  25 

Than  I,  my  dearest  friend,  do  part  from  thee. 

Ye  fields  of  Cambridge,  our  dear  Cambridge,  say, 
Have  ye  not  seen  us,  walking  every  day  ? 
Was  there  a  tree  about  which  did  not  know 

The  love  betwixt  us  two  ?  3° 


n6  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Henceforth,  ye  gentle  trees,  forever  fade, 
Or  your  sad  branches  thicker  join, 
And  into  darksome  shades  combine, 

Dark  as  the  grave  wherein  my  friend  is  laid. 

Large  was  his  soul ;  as  large  a  soul  as  e'er  5 

Submitted  to  inform  a  body  here ; 

High  as  the  place  't  was  shortly  in  Heaven  to  have, 

But  low  and  humble  as  his  grave ; 
So  high  that  all  the  virtues  there  did  come 

As  to  the  chief est  seat  10 

Conspicuous,  and  great ; 
So  low  that  for  me  too  it  made  a  room. 

Knowledge  he  only  sought,  and  so  soon  caught, 

As  if  for  him  knowledge  had  rather  sought ; 

Nor  did  more  learning  ever  crowded  lie  15 

In  such  a  short  mortality. 
Whene'er  the  skillful  youth  discoursed  or  writ, 

Still  did  the  notions  throng 

About  his  eloquent  tongue ; 
Nor  could  his  ink  flow  faster  than  his  wit.  20 

His  mirth  was  the  pure  spirits  of  various  wit, 

Yet  never  did  his  God  or  friends  forget. 

And  when  deep  talk  and  wisdom  came  in  view, 

Retired,  and  gave  to  them  their  due. 
For  the  rich  help  of  books  he  always  took,  25 

Though  his  own  searching  mind  before 

Was  so  with  notions  written  o'er, 
As  if  wise  Nature  had  made  that  her  book. 

With  as  much  zeal,  devotion,  piety, 

He  always  lived,  as  other  saints  do  die.  30 

Still  with  his  soul  severe  account  he  kept, 
Weeping  all  debts  out  ere  he  slept. 


BOOK  SECOND  117 

Then  down  in  peace  and  innocence  he  lay, 

Like  the  sun's  laborious  light, 

Which  still  in  water  sets  at  night, 
Unsullied  with  his  journey  of  the  day. 

A.  Cowley 

cxxxvui 
FRIENDS  IN  PARADISE 

They  are  all  gone  into  the  world  of  light !  5 

And  I  alone  sit  lingering  here ; 
Their  very  memory  is  fair  and  bright, 

And  my  sad  thoughts  doth  clear :  — 

It  glows  and  glitters  in  my  cloudy  breast, 

Like  stars  upon  some  gloomy  grove,  10 

Or  those  faint  beams  in  which  this  hill  is  drest, 
After  the  sun's  remove. 

I  see  them  walking  in  an  air  of  glory, 

Whose  light  doth  trample  on  my  days : 

My  days,  which  are  at  best  but  dull  and  hoary,  15 

Mere  glimmering  and  decays. 

O  holy  Hope !  and  high  Humility, 
High  as  the  Heavens  above  ! 
These  are  your  walks,  and  you  have  show'd  them  me, 

To  kindle  my  cold  love.  20 

Dear,  beauteous  Death !  the  jewel  of  the  just, 

Shining  nowhere,  but  in  the  dark ; 
What  mysteries  do  lie  beyond  thy  dust, 
Could  man  outlook  that  mark ! 

He  that  hath  found  some  fledged  bird's  nest,  may  know      25 

At  first  sight,  if  the  bird  be  flown ; 

But  what  fair  well  or  grove  he  sings  in  now, 

That  is  to  him  unknown. 


n8  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  yet,  as  Angels  in  some  brighter  dreams 
Call  to  the  soul,  when  man  doth  sleep ; 
So  some  strange  thoughts  transcend  our  wonted  themes, 
And  into  glory  peep. 

H.  Vaughan 

CXXXIX 
TO  BLOSSOMS 

Fair  pledges  of  a  fruitful  tree,  5 

Why  do  ye  fall  so  fast? 

Your  date  is  not  so  past, 
But  you  may  stay  yet  here  awhile 

To  blush  and  gently  smile, 

And  go  at  last.  10 

What,  were  ye  born  to  be 

An  hour  or  half's  delight, 

And  so  to  bid  good-night? 
'T  was  pity  Nature  brought  ye  forth 

Merely  to  show  your  worth,  15 

And  lose  you  quite. 

But  you  are  lovely  leaves,  where  we 
May  read  how  soon  things  have 
Their  end,  though  ne'er  so  brave : 

And  after  they  have  shown  their  pride  20 

Like  you,  awhile,  they  glide 

Into  the  grave. 
,f  R.  Herrick 

CXL 

TO  DAFFODILS 

Fair  Daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 

You  haste  away  so  soon : 
As  yet  the  early-rising  Sun  25 

Has  not  attain'd  his  noon. 


BOOK  SECOND  119 

Stay,  stay, 
Until  the  hasting  day 

Has  run 

But  to  the  even-song ; 

And,  having  pray'd  together,  we  5 

Will  go  with  you  along. 

We  have  short  time  to  stay,  as  you, 

We  have  as  short  a  spring ; 
As  quick  a  growth  to  meet  decay 

As  you,  or  anything.  10 

We  die, 
As  your  hours  do,  and  dry 

Away 

Like  to  the  summer's  rain ; 

Or  as  the  pearls  of  morning's  dew  15 

Ne'er  to  be  found  again. 

X.  Herrick 

CXLI 
THE  GIRL  DESCRIBES   HER  FAWN 

With  sweetest  milk  and  sugar  first 

I  it  at  my  own  fingers  nursed ; 

And  as  it  grew,  so  every  day 

It  wax'd  more  white  and  sweet  than  they  —  20 

It  had  so  sweet  a  breath !  and  oft 

I  blush'd  to  see  its  foot  more  soft 

And  white,  —  shall  I  say,  —  than  my  hand  ? 

Nay,  any  lady's  of  the  land  ! 

It  is  a  wondrous  thing  how  fleet  25 

'T  was  on  those  little  silver  feet : 

With  what  a  pretty  skipping  grace 

It  oft  would  challenge  me  the  race :  — 

And  when  't  had  left  me  far  away 

'T  would  stay,  and  run  again,  and  stay :  30 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

For  it  was  nimbler  much  than  hinds, 
And  trod  as  if  on  the  four  winds. 

I  have  a  garden  of  my  own, 

But  so  with  roses  overgrown 

And  lilies,  that  you  would  it  guess  5 

To  be  a  little  wilderness : 

And  all  the  springtime  of  the  year 

It  only  love'd  to  be  there. 

Among  the  beds  of  lilies  I 

Have  sought  it  oft,  where  it  should  lie ;  10 

Yet  could  not,  till  itself  would  rise, 

Find  it,  although  before  mine  eyes :  — 

For  in  the  flaxen  lilies'  shade 

It  like  a  bank  of  lilies  laid. 

Upon  the  roses  it  would  feed,  15 

Until  its  lips  e'en  seem'd  to  bleed : 

And  then  to  me  't  would  boldly  trip, 

And  print  those  roses  on  my  lip. 

But  all  its  chief  delight  was  still 

On  roses  thus  itself  to  fill,  20 

And  its  pure  virgin  limbs  to  fold 

In  whitest  sheets  of  lilies  cold :  — 

Had  it  lived  long,  it  would  have  been 

Lilies  without  —  roses  within. 

A.  Marvell 

CXLII 
THOUGHTS  IN  A  GARDEN 

How  vainly  men  themselves  amaze  25 

To  win  the  palm,  the  oak,  or  bays, 

And  their  uncessant  labors  see 

Crown'd  from  some  single  herb  or  tree, 

Whose  short  and  narrow-verged  shade 

Does  prudently  their  toils  upbraid ;  30 


BOOK  SECOND  121 

While  all  the  flowers  and  trees  do  close 
To  weave  the  garlands  of  Repose. 

Fair  Quiet,  have  I  found  thee  here, 

And  Innocence  thy  sister  dear! 

Mistaken  long,  I  sought  you  then  5 

In  busy  companies  of  men : 

Your  sacred  plants,  if  here  below, 

Only  among  the  plants  will  grow : 

Society  is  all  but  rude 

To  this  delicious  solitude.  10 

No  white  nor  red  was  ever  seen 

So  amorous  as  this  lovely  green. 

Fond  lovers,  cruel  as  their  flame, 

Cut  in  these  trees  their  mistress'  name : 

Little,  alas,  they  know  or  heed  15 

How  far  these  beauties  hers  exceed ! 

Fair  trees  !  wheres'e'er  your  barks  I  wound, 

No  name  shall  but  your  own  be  found. 

When  we  have  run  our  passions'  heat 

Love  hither  makes  his  best  retreat :  20 

The  gods,  who  mortal  beauty  chase, 

Still  in  a  tree  did  end  their  race ; 

Apollo  hunted  Daphne  so 

Only  that  she  might  laurel  grow ; 

And  Pan  did  after  Syrinx  speed  25 

Not  as  a  nymph,  but  for  a  reed. 

What  wondrous  life  is  this  I  lead ! 

Ripe  apples  drop  about  my  head ; 

The  luscious  clusters  of  the  vine 

Upon  my  mouth  do  crush  their  wine ;  30 

The  nectarine  and  curious  peach 

Into  my  hands  themselves  do  reach ; 

Stumbling  on  melons,  as  I  pass, 

Ensnared  with  flowers,  I  fall  on  grass. 


122  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Meanwhile  the  mind  from  pleasure  less 

Withdraws  into  its  happiness ; 

The  mind,  that  ocean  where  each  kind 

Does  straight  its  own  resemblance  find ; 

Yet  it  creates,  transcending  these,  5 

Far  other  worlds,  and  other  seas ; 

Annihilating  all  that 's  made 

To  a  green  thought  in  a  green  shade. 

Here  at  the  fountain's  sliding  foot 

Or  at  some  fruit  tree's  mossy  root,  10 

Casting  the  body's  vest  aside 

My  soul  into  the  boughs  does  glide; 

There,  like  a  bird,  it  sits  and  sings, 

Then  whets  and  claps  its  silver  wings, 

And,  till  prepared  for  longer  flight,  15 

Waves  in  its  plumes  the  various  light. 

Such  was  that  happy  Garden-state 

While  man  there  walk'd  without  a  mate : 

After  a  place  so  pure  and  sweet, 

What  other  help  could  yet  be  meet !  20 

But  't  was  beyond  a  mortal's  share 

To  wander  solitary  there : 

Two  paradises  't  were  in  one, 

To  live  in  Paradise  alone. 

How  well  the  skillful  gardener  drew  25 

Of  flowers  and  herbs  this  dial  new  ! 

Where,  from  above,  the  milder  sun 

Does  through  a  fragrant  zodiac  run : 

And,  as  it  works,  th'  industrious  bee 

Computes  its  time  as  well  as  we.  30 

How  could  such  sweet  and  wholesome  hours 

Be  reckon'd,  but  with  herbs  and  flowers  ! 

A.  Marvell 


BOOK  SECOND  123 

CXLIII 
FORTUNATI  NIMIUM 

Jack  and  Joan,  they  think  no  ill, 

But  loving  live,  and  merry  still ; 

Do  their  week-day's  work,  and  pray 

Devoutly  on  the  holy  day  : 

Skip  and  trip  it  on  the  green,  5 

And  help  to  choose  the  Summer  Queen ; 

Lash  out  at  a  country  feast 

Their  silver  penny  with  the  best. 

Well  can  they  judge  of  nappy  ale, 

And  tell  at  large  a  winter  tale ;  10 

Climb  up  to  the  apple  loft, 

And  turn  the  crabs  till  they  be  soft. 

Tib  is  all  the  father's  joy, 

And  little  Tom  the  mother's  boy :  — 

All  their  pleasure  is,  Content,  15 

And  care,  to  pay  their  yearly  rent. 

Joan  can  call  by  name  her  cows 

And  deck  her  windows  with  green  boughs ; 

She  can  wreaths  and  tutties  make, 

And  trim  with  plums  a  bridal  cake.  20 

Jack  knows  what  brings  gain  or  loss, 

And  his  long  flail  can  stoutly  toss : 

Makes  the  hedge  which  others  break, 

And  ever  thinks  what  he  doth  speak. 

—  Now,  you  courtly  dames  and  knights,  25 

That  study  only  strange  delights, 

Though  you  scorn  the  homespun  gray, 

And  revel  in  your  rich  array ; 

Though  your  tongues  dissemble  deep 

And  can  your  heads  from  danger  keep ;  30 


J24  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Yet,  for  all  your  pomp  and  train, 
Securer  lives  the  silly  swain  ! 

T.  Campion 

CXLIV 
L'ALLEGRO 

Hence,  loathed  Melancholy, 

Of  Cerberus  and  blackest  Midnight  born 
In  Stygian  cave  forlorn  5 

'Mongst  horrid  shapes,  and  shrieks,  and  sights  unholy ! 
Find  out  some  uncouth  cell 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings 
And  the  night-raven  sings ; 

There  under  ebon  shades,  and  low-brow'd  rocks  10 

As  ragged  as  thy  locks, 

In  dark  Cimmerian  desert  ever  dwell. 

But  come,  thou  Goddess  fair  and  free, 
In  heaven  yclept  Euphrosyne, 

And  by  men,  heart-easing  Mirth,  15 

Whom  lovely  Venus  at  a  birth 
With  two  sister  Graces  more 
To  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore ; 
Or  whether  (as  some  sager  sing) 

The  frolic  wind  that  breathes  the  spring  20 

Zephyr,  with  Aurora  playing, 
As  he  met  her  once  a  Maying  — 
There  on  beds  of  violets  blue 
And  fresh-blown  roses  wash'd  in  dew 
Fill'd  her  with  thee,  a  daughter  fair,  25 

So  buxom,  blithe,  and  debonair. 

Haste  thee,  Nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest,  and  youthful  jollity, 
Quips,  and  cranks,  and  wanton  wiles, 
Nods,  and  becks,  and  wreathed  smiles  30 

Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 


BOOK  SECOND  125 

And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek ; 

Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 

And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides :  — 

Come,  and  trip  it  as  you  go 

On  the  light  fantastic  toe ;  5 

And  in  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thee 

The  mountain-nymph,  sweet  Liberty ; 

And  if  I  give  thee  honor  due 

Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crew, 

To  live  with  her,  and  live  with  thee  10 

In  unreprove*d  pleasures  free ; 

To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight 

And  singing  startle  the  dull  night 

From  his  watchtower  in  the  skies, 

Till  the  dappled  dawn  doth  rise;  15 

Then  to  come,  in  spite  of  sorrow, 

And  at  my  window  bid  good-morrow 

Through  the  sweetbrier,  or  the  vine, 

Or  the  twisted  eglantine : 

While  the  cock  with  lively  din  20 

Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin, 

And  to  the  stack,  or  the  barn  door, 

Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before : 

Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 

Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn,  25 

From  the  side  of  some  hoar  hill, 

Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill : 

Sometime  walking,  not  unseen, 

By  hedgerow  elms,  on  hillocks  green, 

Right  against  the  eastern  gate  30 

Where  the  great  Sun  begins  his  state 

Robed  in  flames  and  amber  light, 

The  clouds  in  thousand  liveries  dight ; 

While  the  plowman,  near  at  hand, 

Whistles  o'er  the  furrow'd  land,  35 

And  the  milkmaid  singeth  blithe, 


126  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe, 
And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 

Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures 
Whilst  the  landscape  round  it  measures ;  5 

Russet  lawns,  and  fallows  gray, 
Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray ; 
Mountains,  on  whose  barren  breast 
The  laboring  clouds  do  often  rest ; 
Meadows  trim  with  daisies  pied,  10 

Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide ; 
Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 
Bosom'd  high  in  tufted  trees, 
Where  perhaps  some  Beauty  lies, 
The  Cynosure  of  neighboring  eyes.  1 5 

Hard  by,  a  cottage  chimney  smokes 
From  betwixt  two  aged  oaks, 
Where  Corydon  and  Thyrsis,  met, 
Are  at  their  savory  dinner  set 

Of  herbs,  and  other  country  messes  20 

Which  the  neat-handed  Phillis  dresses ; 
And  then  in  haste  her  bower  she  leaves 
With  Thestylis  to  bind  the  sheaves ; 
Or,  if  the  earlier  season  lead, 
To  the  tann'd  haycock  in  the  mead.  25 

Sometimes  with  secure  delight 
The  upland  hamlets  will  invite, 
When  the  merry  bells  ring  round, 
And  the" jocund  rebecks  sound 

To  many  a  youth  and  many  a  maid,  30 

Dancing  in  the  checker 'd  shade ; 
And  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play 
On  a  sunshine  holyday, 
Till  the  livelong  daylight  fail : 

Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale,  35 

With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 


BOOK  SECOND  127 

How  Faery  Mab  the  junkets  eat :  — 

She  was  pinch'd,  and  pulPd,  she  said ; 

And  he,  by  Friar's  lantern  led ; 

Tells  how  the  drudging  Goblin  sweat 

To  earn  his  cream  bowl  duly  set,  5 

When  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn, 

His  shadowy  flail  hath  thresh'd  the  corn 

That  ten  day  laborers  could  not  end ; 

Then  lies  him  down  the  lubber  fiend, 

And,  stretch'd  out  all  the  chimney's  length,  10 

Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength ; 

And  crop-full  out  of  doors  he  flings, 

Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin  rings. 

Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep, 
By  whispering  winds  soon  lull'd  asleep.  15 

Tower'd  cities  please  us  then 
And  the  busy  hum  of  men, 
Where  throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold, 
In  weeds  of  peace,  high  triumphs  hold, 
With  store  of  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes  20 

Rain,  influence,  and  judge  the  prize 
Of  wit  or  arms,  while  both  contend 
To  win  her  grace,  whom  all  commend. 
There  let  Hymen  oft  appear 

In  saffron  robe,  with  taper  clear,  25 

And  pomp,  and  feast,  and  revelry, 
With  mask,  and  antique  pageantry ; 
Such  sights  as  youthful  poets  dream 
On  summer  eves  by  haunted  stream. 
Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon,  30 

If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on, 
Or  sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancy's  child, 
Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild. 

And  ever  against  eating  cares 

Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs  35 

Married  to  immortal  verse, 


128  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce 

In  notes,  with  many  a  winding  bout 

Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out, 

With  wanton  heed  and  giddy  cunning, 

The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running,  5 

Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 

The  hidden  soul  of  harmony ; 

That  Orpheus'  self  may  heave  his  head 

From  golden  slumber,  on  a  bed 

Of  heap'd  Elysian  flowers,  and  hear  10 

Such  strains  as  would  have  won  the  ear 

Of  Pluto,  to  have  quite  set  free 

His  half-regain'd  Eurydice. 

These  delights  if  thou  canst  give, 

Mirth,  with  thee  I  mean  to  live.  1 5 

/.  Milton 

CXLV 
IL  PENSEROSO 

Hence,  vain  deluding  Joys, 

The  brood  of  Folly  without  father  bred ! 
How  little  you  bestead 

Or  fill  the  fixe'd  mind  with  all  your  toys ! 
Dwell  in  some  idle  brain,  20 

And  fancies  fond  with  gaudy  shapes  possess 
As  thick  and  numberless 

As  the  gay  motes  that  people  the  sunbeams, 
Or  likes,t  hovering  dreams, 

The  fickle  pensioners  of  Morpheus'  train.  25 

But  hail,  thou  goddess  sage  and  holy, 
Hail,  divinest  Melancholy ! 
Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  sense  of  human  sight, 
And  therefore  to  our  weaker  view  30 

O'erlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom's  hue ; 


BOOK  SECOND  129 

Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 

Prince  Memnon's  sister  might  beseem, 

Or  that  starr'd  Ethiop  queen  that  strove 

To  set  her  beauty's  praise  above 

The  sea  nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended :  5 

Yet  thou  art  higher  far  descended : 

Thee  bright-hair'd  Vesta,  long  of  yore, 

To  solitary  Saturn  bore ; 

His  daughter  she ;  in  Saturn's  reign 

Such  mixture  was  not  held  a  stain  :  10 

Oft  in  glimmering  bowers  and  glades 

He  met  her,  and  in  secret  shades 

Of  woody  Ida's  inmost  grove, 

While  yet  there  was  no  fear  of  Jove. 

Come,  pensive  Nun,  devout  and  pure,  1 5 

Sober,  steadfast,  and  demure, 
All  in  a  robe  of  darkest  grain 
Flowing  with  majestic  train, 
And  sable  stole  of  Cipres  lawn 

Over  thy  decent  shoulders  drawn :  20 

Come,  but  keep  thy  wonted  state, 
With  even  step,  and  musing  gait, 
And  looks  commercing  with  the  skies, 
Thy  rapt  soul  sitting  in  thine  eyes : 
There,  held  in  holy  passion  still,  25 

Forget  thyself  to  marble,  till 
With  a  sad  leaden  downward  cast 
Thou  fix  them  on  the  earth  as  fast : 
And  join  with  thee  calm  Peace,  and  Quiet, 
Spare  Fast,  that  oft  with  gods  doth  diet,  30 

And  hears  the  Muses  in  a  ring 
Aye  round  about  Jove's  altar  sing : 
And  add  to  these  retired  Leisure 
That  in  trim  gardens  takes  his  pleasure :  — 
But  first  and  chief est,  with  thee  bring  35 

Him  that  yon  soars  on  golden  wing 


13°  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Guiding  the  fiery-wheeled  throne, 

The  cherub  Contemplation ; 

And  the  mute  Silence  hist  along, 

'Less  Philomel  will  deign  a  song 

In  her  sweetest  saddest  plight  5 

Smoothing  the  rugged  brow  of  Night, 

While  Cynthia  checks  her  dragon  yoke 

Gently  o'er  the  accustom'd  oak. 

—  Sweet  bird,  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly, 

Most  musical,  most  melancholy  !  10 

Thee,  chantress,  oft,  the  woods  among 

I  woo,  to  hear  thy  evensong ; 

And  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen 

On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  green, 

To  behold  the  wandering  Moon  15 

Riding  near  her  highest  noon, 

Like  one  that  had  been  led  astray 

Through  the  heaven's  wide  pathless  way, 

And  oft,  as  if  her  head  she  bow'd, 

Stooping  through  a  fleecy  cloud.  20 

Oft,  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground 
I  hear  the  far-off  Curfew  sound 
Over  some  wide-water'd  shore, 
Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar : 

Or,  if  the  air  will  not  permit,  25 

Some  still  removed  place  will  fit, 
Where  glowing  embers  through  the  room 
Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom ; 
Far  from  all  resort  of  mirth, 

Save  the  cricket  on  the  hearth,  30 

Or  the  bellman's  drowsy  charm 
To  bless  the  doors  from  nightly  harm. 

Or  let  my  lamp  at  midnight  hour 
Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tower, 
Where  I  may  oft  out-watch  the  Bear  35 

With  thrice-great  Hermes,  or  unsphere 


BOOK  SECOND  131 

The  spirit  of  Plato,  to  unfold 

What  worlds  or  what  vast  regions  hold 

The  immortal  mind,  that  hath  forsook 

Her  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook : 

And  of  those  demons  that  are  found  5 

In  fire,  air,  flood,  or  underground, 

Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent 

With  planet,  or  with  element. 

Sometime  let  gorgeous  Tragedy 

In  scepter'd  pall  come  sweeping  by,  10 

Presenting  Thebes,  or  Pelops'  line, 

Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine ; 

Or  what  (though  rare)  of  later  age 

Ennobled  hath  the  buskin'd  stage. 

But,  O  sad  Virgin,  that  thy  power  15 

Might  raise  Musaeus  from  his  bower, 
Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing 
Such  notes  as,  warbled  to  the  string, 
Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek 
And  made  Hell  grant  what  Love  did  seek !  20 

Or  call  up  him  that  left  half  told 
The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold, 
Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 
And  who  had  Canace  to  wife 

That  own'd  the  virtuous  ring  and  glass ;  25 

And  of  the  wondrous  horse  of  brass 
On  which  the  Tartar  king  did  ride : 
And  if  aught  else  great  bards  beside 
In  sage  and  solemn  tunes  have  sung 
Of  tourneys,  and  of  trophies  hung,  30 

Of  forests,  and  enchantments  drear, 
Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear. 

Thus,  Night,  oft  see  me  in  thy  pale  career, 
Till  civil-suited  Morn  appear, 

Not  trick'd  and  frounced  as  she  was  wont  35 

With  the  Attic  Boy  to  hunt, 


132  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

But  kercheft  in  a  comely  cloud 

While  rocking  winds  are  piping  loud, 

Or  usher'd  with  a  shower  still, 

When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill, 

Ending  on  the  rustling  leaves  5 

With  minute  drops  from  off  the  eaves. 

And  when  the  sun  begins  to  fling 

His  flaring  beams,  me,  goddess,  bring 

To  arche'd  walks  of  twilight  groves, 

And  shadows  brown,  that  Sylvan  loves,  10 

Of  pine,  or  monumental  oak, 

Where  the  rude  ax,  with  heave'd  stroke, 

Was  never  heard  the  nymphs  to  daunt 

Or  fright  them  from  their  hallow'd  haunt. 

There  in  close  covert  by  some  brook  15 

Where  no  profaner  eye  may  look, 

Hide  me  from  day's  garish  eye, 

While  the  bee  with  honey'd  thigh 

That  at  her  flowery  work  doth  sing, 

And  the  waters  murmuring,  20 

With  such  consort  as  they  keep 

Entice  the  dewy-feather'd  Sleep ; 

And  let  some  strange  mysterious  dream 

Wave  at  his  wings  in  airy  stream 

Of  lively  portraiture  display'd,  25 

Softly  on  my  eyelids  laid : 

And,  as  I  wake,  sweet  music  breathe 

Above,  about,  or  underneath, 

Sent  by  some  Spirit  to  mortals  good, 

Or  the  unseen  Genius  of  the  wood.  30 

But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail 
To  walk  the  studious  cloister's  pale, 
And  love  the  high-embowe'd  roof, 
With  antique  pillars  massy  proof, 
And  storied  windows  richly  dight  35 

Casting  a  dim  religious  light. 


BOOK  SECOND  133 

There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow 

To  the  full-voiced  choir  below 

In  service  high  and  anthems  clear, 

As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear, 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies,  5 

And  bring  all  Heaven  before  mine  eyes. 

And  may  at  last  my  weary  age 
Find  out  the  peaceful  hermitage, 
The  hairy  gown  and  mossy  cell 

Where  I  may  sit  and  rightly  spell  10 

Of  every  star  that  heaven  doth  shew, 
And  every  herb  that  sips  the  dew ; 
Till  old  experience  do  attain 
To  something  like  prophetic  strain. 

These  pleasures,  Melancholy,  give,  15 

And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 

/.  Milton 

CXLVI 
SONG  OF  THE  EMIGRANTS  IN  BERMUDA 

Where  the  remote  Bermudas  ride 

In  the  ocean's  bosom  unespied, 

From  a  small  boat  that  row'd  along 

The  listening  winds  received  this  song.  20 

"  What  should  we  do  but  sing  His  praise 
That  led  us  through  the  watery  maze 
Where  He  the  huge  sea-monsters  wracks, 
That  lift  the  deep  upon  their  backs, 
Unto  an  isle  so  long  unknown,  25 

And  yet  far  kinder  than  our  own  ? 
He  lands  us  on  a  grassy  stage, 
Safe  from  the  storms,  and  prelate's  rage : 
He  gave  us  this  eternal  Spring 

Which  here  enamels  everything,  30 

And  sends  the  fowls  to  us  in  care 


134  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

On  daily  visits  through  the  air. 
He  hangs  in  shades  the  orange  bright 
Like  golden  lamps  in  a  green  night, 
And  does  in  the  pomegranates  close 
Jewels  more  rich  than  Ormus  shows :  5 

He  makes  the  figs  our  mouths  to  meet 
And  throws  the  melons  at  our  feet; 
But  apples  plants  of  such  a  price, 
No  tree  could  ever  bear  them  twice. 
With  cedars  chosen  by  His  hand  10 

From  Lebanon  He  stores  the  land ; 
And  makes  the  hollow  seas  that  roar 
Proclaim  the  ambergris  on  shore. 
He  cast  (of  which  we  rather  boast) 
The  Gospel's  pearl  upon  our  coast ;  1 5 

And  in  these  rocks  for  us  did  frame 
A  temple  where  to  sound  His  name. 
Oh !  let  our  voice  His  praise  exalt 
Till  it  arrive  at  Heaven's  vault, 

Which  thence  (perhaps)  rebounding  may  20 

Echo  beyond  the  Mexique  bay  !  " 
—  Thus  sang  they  in  the  English  boat 
A  holy  and  a  cheerful  note : 
And  all  the  way,  to  guide  their  chime, 
With  falling  oars  they  kept  the  time.  25 

A.  Marvell 

CXLVII 
AT  A  SOLEMN  MUSIC 

Blest  pair  of  Sirens,  pledges  of  Heaven's  joy, 
Sphere-born  harmonious  Sisters,  Voice  and  Verse ! 
Wed  your  divine  sounds,  and  mixed  power  employ, 
Dead  things  with  inbreathed  sense  able  to  pierce ; 
And  to  our  high-raised  phantasy  present  30 

That  undisturbed  Song  of  pure  consent 


BOOK  SECOND  135 

Aye  sung  before  the  sapphire-color'd  throne 

To  Him  that  sits  thereon, 
With  saintly  shout  and  solemn  jubilee ; 
Where  the  bright  Seraphim  in  burning  row 
Their  loud  uplifted  angel-trumpets  blow ;  5 

And  the  Cherubic  host  in  thousand  choirs 
Touch  their  immortal  harps  of  golden  wires, 
With  those  just  Spirits  that  wear  victorious  palms, 

Hymns  devout  and  holy  psalms 

Singing  everlastingly :  10 

That  we  on  Earth,  with  undiscording  voice 
May  rightly  answer  that  melodious  noise ; 
As  once  we  did,  till  disproportion^  sin 
Jarr'd  against  nature's  chime,  and  with  harsh  din 
Broke  the  fair  music  that  all  creatures  made  1 5 

To  their  great  Lord,  whose  love  their  motion  sway'd 
In  perfect  diapason,  whilst  they  stood 
In  first  obedience,  and  their  state  of  good. 
O  may  we  soon  again  renew  that  Song, 
And  keep  in  tune  with  Heaven,  till  God  ere  long  20 

To  His  celestial  consort  us  unite, 
To  live  with  Him,  and  sing  in  endless  morn  of  light ! 

/.  Milton 

CXLVIII 
NOX  NOCTI  INDICAT  SCIENTIAM 

When  I  survey  the  bright 

Celestial  sphere : 

So  rich  with  jewels  hung,  that  night  25 

Doth  like  an  Ethiop  bride  appear ; 

My  soul  her  wings  doth  spread, 

And  heavenward  flies, 
The  Almighty's  mysteries  to  read 
In  the  large  volumes  of  the  skies.  30 


136  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

For  the  bright  firmament 

Shoots  forth  no  flame 
So  silent,  but  is  eloquent 
In  speaking  the  Creator's  name. 

No  unregarded  star  5 

Contracts  its  light 
Into  so  small  a  character, 
Removed  far  from  our  human  sight, 

But  if  we  steadfast  look, 

We  shall  discern  10 

In  it  as  in  some  holy  book, 
How  man  may  heavenly  knowledge  learn. 

It  tells  the  Conqueror, 

That  far-stretch'd  power 

Which  his  proud  dangers  traffic  for,  15 

Is  but  the  triumph  of  an  hour. 

That  from  the  farthest  North 

Some  nation  may 
Yet  undiscovered  issue  forth, 
And  o'er  his  new-got  conquest  sway.  20 

Some  nation  yet  shut  in 

With  hills  of  ice, 
May  be  let  out  to  scourge  his  sin, 
Till  they  shall  equal  him  in  vice. 

And  then  they  likewise  shall  25 

Their  ruin  have ; 

For  as  yourselves  your  Empires  fall, 
And  every  Kingdom  hath  a  grave. 

Thus  those  celestial  fires, 

Though  seeming  mute,  30 

The  fallacy  of  our  desires 
And  all  the  pride  of  life,  confute. 


BOOK  SECOND  137 

For  they  have  watch'd- since  first 

The  world  had  birth  : 
And  found  sin  in  itself  accursed, 
And  nothing  permanent  on  earth. 

W.  Habington 

CXLIX 
HYMN  TO  DARKNESS 

Hail  thou  most  sacred  venerable  thing !  5 

What  Muse  is  worthy  thee  to  sing  ? 
Thee,  from  whose  pregnant  universal  womb 
All  things,  ev'n  Light,  thy  rival,  first  did  come. 
What  dares  he  not  attempt  that  sings  of  thee, 

Thou  first  and  greatest  mystery  ?  10 

Who  can  the  secrets  of  thy  essence  tell  ? 
Thou,  like  the  light  of  God,  art  inaccessible. 

Before  great  Love  this  monument  did  raise, 

This  ample  theater  of  praise ; 

Before  the  folding  circles  of  the  sky  15 

Were  tuned  by  Him,  Who  is  all  harmony ; 
Before  the  morning  Stars  their  hymn  began, 

Before  the  council  held  for  man, 
Before  the  birth  of  either  time  or  place, 
Thou  reign'st  unquestion'd  monarch  in  the  empty  space.     20 

Thy  native  lot  thou  didst  to  Light  resign, 

But  still  half  of  the  globe  is  thine. 
Here  with  a  quiet,  but  yet  awful  hand, 
Like  the  best  emperors  thou  dost  command. 
To  thee  the  stars  above  their  brightness  owe,  25 

And  mortals  their  repose  below : 
To  thy  protection  fear  and  sorrow  flee, 
And  those  that  weary  are  of  light,  find  rest  in  thee. 

J.  Norris 

of  Bemerton 


138  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CL 

A  VISION 

I  saw  Eternity  the  other  night, 

Like  a  great  ring  of  pure  and  endless  light, 

All  calm,  as  it  was  bright :  — 
And  round  beneath  it,  Time,  in  hours,  days,  years, 

Driven  by  the  spheres,  5 

Like  a  vast  shadow  moved ;  in  which  the  World 

And  all  her  train  were  hurl'd. 

H.  Vaughan 

t~  CLI 

ALEXANDER'S  FEAST,  OR,  THE  POWER  OF  MUSIC 

'T  was  at  the  royal  feast  for  Persia  won 
By  Philip's  warlike  son  — 

Aloft  in  awful  state  10 

The  godlike  hero  sate 
On  his  imperial  throne ; 
His  valiant  peers  were  placed  around, 
Their  brows  with  roses  and  with  myrtles  bound, 
(So  should  desert  in  arms  be  crown'd);  15 

The  lovely  Thais  by  his  side 
Sate  like  a  blooming  Eastern  bride 
In  flower  of  youth  and  beauty's  pride :  — 
Happy,  happy,  happy  pair ! 

None  but  the  brave  20 

None  but  the  brave 
None  but  the  brave  deserves  the  fair ! 

Timotheus  placed  on  high 
Amid  the  tuneful  choir 

With  flying  fingers  touch'd  the  lyre :  25 

The  trembling  notes  ascend  the  sky 
And  heavenly  joys  inspire. 
The  song  began  from  Jove 


BOOK  SECOND  139 

Who  left  his  blissful  seats  above  — 
Such  is  the  power  of  mighty  love ! 
A  dragon's  fiery  form  belied  the  god ; 
Sublime  on  radiant  spires  he  rode 

When  he  to  fair  Olympia  prest,  5 

And  while  he  sought  her  snowy  breast, 
Then  round  her  slender  waist  he  curl'd, 
And  stamp'd  an  image  of  himself,  a  sovereign  of  the  world. 
—  The  listening  crowd  admire  the  lofty  sound ; 
A  present  deity  !  they  shout  around  :  10 

A  present  deity  !  the  vaulted  roofs  rebound : 
With  ravish'd  ears 
The  monarch  hears, 
Assumes  the  god ; 

Affects  to  nod  15 

And  seems  to  shake  the  spheres. 

The  praise  of  Bacchus  then  the  sweet  musician  sung, 
Of  Bacchus  ever  fair  and  ever  young : 
The  jolly  god  in  triumph  comes ; 

Sound  the  trumpets,  beat  the  drums !  20 

Flush'd  with  a  purple  grace 
He  shows  his  honest  face : 

Now  give  the  hautboys  breath  ;  he  comes,  he  comes  ! 
Bacchus,  ever  fair  and  young, 

Drinking  joys  did  first  ordain ;  25 

Bacchus'  blessings  are  a  treasure, 
Drinking  is  the  soldier's  pleasure : 
Rich  the  treasure, 
Sweet  the  pleasure, 
Sweet  is  pleasure  after  pain.  30 

Soothed  with  the  sound,  the  king  grew  vain ; 
Fought  all  his  battles  o'er  again, 
And  thrice  he  routed  all  his  foes,  and  thrice  he  slew  the 

slain ! 
The  master  saw  the  madness  rise, 


140  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

His  glowing  cheeks,  his  ardent  eyes ; 

And  while  he  Heaven  and  Earth  defied 

Changed  his  hand  and  check'd  his  pride. 

He  chose  a  mournful  Muse 

Soft  pity  to  infuse  :  5 

He  sang  Darius  great  and  good, 

By  too  severe  a  fate 

Fallen,  fallen,  fallen,  fallen, 

Fallen  from  his  high  estate. 

And  weltering  in  his  blood ;  10 

Deserted  at  his  utmost  need 

By  those  his  former  bounty  fed ; 

On  the  bare  earth  exposed  he  lies 

With  not  a  friend  to  close  his  eyes. 

—  With  downcast  looks  the  joyless  victor  sate,  15 
Revolving  in  his  alter'd  soul 

The  various  turns  of  Chance  below ; 
And  now  and  then  a  sigh  he  stole, 
And  tears  began  to  flow. 

The  mighty  master  smiled  to  see  20 

That  love  was  in  the  next  degree; 
'T  was  but  a  kindred  sound  to  move, 
For  pity  melts  the  mind  to  love. 
Softly  sweet,  in  Lydian  measures 

Soon  he  soothed  his  soul  to  pleasures.  25 

War,  he  sang,  is  toil  and  trouble, 
Honor  but  an  empty  bubble ; 
Never  ending,  still  beginning, 
Fighting  still,  and  still  destroying; 

If  the  world  be  worth  thy  winning,  30 

Think,  O  think,  it  worth  enjoying : 
Lovely  Thais  sits  beside  thee, 
Take  the  good  the  gods  provide  thee  1 

—  The  many  rend  the  skies  with  loud  applause ; 

So  Love  was  crown'd,  but  Music  won  the  cause.          35 


BOOK  SECOND  141 

The  prince,  unable  to  conceal  his  pain, 

Gazed  on  the  fair 

Who  caused  his  care, 

And  sigh'd  and  look'd,  sigh'd  and  look'd, 

Sigh'd  and  look'd,  and  sigh'd  again :  5 

At  length  with  love  and  wine  at  once  opprest 

The  vanquish'd  victor  sunk  upon  her  breast. 

Now  strike  the  golden  lyre  again  : 
A  louder  yet,  and  yet  a  louder  strain ! 
Break  his  bands  of  sleep  asunder  10 

And  rouse  him  like  a  rattling  peal  of  thunder. 
Hark,  hark !  the  horrid  sound 
Has  raised  up  his  head : 
As  awaked  from  the  dead 

And  amazed  he  stares  around.  15 

Revenge,  revenge,  Timotheus  cries, 
See  the  Furies  arise ! 
See  the  snakes  that  they  rear 
How  they  hiss  in  their  hair, 

And  the  sparkles  that  flash  from  their  eyes !  20 

Behold  a  ghastly  band, 
Each  a  torch  in  his  hand ! 

Those  are  Grecian  ghosts,  that  in  battle  were  slain 
And  unburied  remain 

Inglorious  on  the  plain:  25 

Give  the  vengeance  due 
To  the  valiant  crew ! 

Behold  how  they  toss  their  torches  on  high, 
How  they  point  to  the  Persian  abodes 
And  glittering  temples  of  their  hostile  gods.  30 

—  The  princes  applaud  with  a  furious  joy : 
And  the  King  seized  a  flambeau  with  zeal  to  destroy ; 
Thais  led  the  way 
To  light  him  to  his  prey, 
And  like  another  Helen,  fired  another  Troy!  35 


142  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

—  Thus,  long  ago, 
Ere  heaving  bellows  learn'd  to  blow, 
While  organs  yet  were  mute, 
Timotheus,  to  his  breathing  flute 

And  sounding  lyre  5 

Could  swell  the  soul  to  rage,  or  kindle  soft  desire. 
At  last  divine  Cecilia  came, 
Inventress  of  the  vocal  frame ; 
The  sweet  enthusiast  from  her  sacred  store 
Enlarged  the  former  narrow  bounds,  10 

And  added  length  to  solemn  sounds, 
With  Nature's  mother-wit,  and  arts  unknown  before. 
—  Let  old  Timotheus  yield  the  prize 
Or  both  divide  the  crown ; 

He  raised  a  mortal  to  the  skies;  15 

She  drew  an  angel  down ! 

/.  Dry  den 


BOOK  THIRD 


It  is  more  difficult  to  characterize  the  English  poetry  of  the  eighteenth 
century  than  that  of  any  other,  for  it  was  an  age  not  only  of  spontaneous  tran- 
sition, but  of  bold  experiment :  it  includes  not  only  such  absolute  contrasts  as 
distinguish  the  "  Rape  of  the  Lock  "  from  the  "  Parish  Register  "  [of  Crabbe],but 
such  vast  contemporaneous  differences  as  lie  between  Pope  and  Collins,  Burns 
and  Cowper.  Yet  we  may  clearly  trace  three  leading  moods  or  tendencies: 
the  aspects  of  courtly  or  educated  life  represented  by  Pope  and  carried  to  ex- 
haustion by  his  followers ;  the  poetry  of  nature  and  of  man,  viewed  through 
a  cultivated  and  at  the  same  time  an  impassioned  frame  of  mind  by  Collins  and 
Gray ;  lastly,  the  study  of  vivid  and  simple  narrative,  including  natural  descrip- 
tion, begun  by  Gay  and  Thomson,  pursued  by  Burns  and  others  in  the  north,  and 
established  in  England  by  Goldsmith,  Percy,  Crabbe,  and  Cowper.  Great  varieties 
in  style  accompanied  these  diversities  in  aim  ;  poets  could  not  always  distinguish 
the  manner  suitable  for  subjects  so  far  apart ;  and  the  union  of  conventional  and 
of  common  language,  exhibited  most  conspicuously  by  Burns,  has  given  a  tone 
to  the  poetry  of  that  century  which  is  better  explained  by  reference  to  its  his- 
torical origin  than  by  naming  it  artificial.  There  is,  again,  a  nobleness  of  thought, 
a  courageous  aim  at  high  and,  in  a  strict  sense  manly,  excellence  in  many  of  the 
writers ;  nor  can  that  period  be  justly  termed  tame  and  wanting  in  originality, 
which  produced  poems  such  as  Pope's  Satires,  Gray's  Odes  and  Elegy,  the  bal- 
lads of  Gay  and  Carey,  the  songs  of  Burns  and  Cowper.  In  truth,  poetry  at  this 
as  at  all  times  was  a  more  or  less  unconscious  mirror  of  the  genius  of  the  age  ; 
and  the  many  complex  causes  which  made  the  eighteenth  century  the  turning 
time  in  modern  European  civilization  are  also  more  or  less  reflected  in  its 
verse.  An  intelligent  reader  will  find  the  influence  of  Newton  as  markedly 
in  the  poems  of  Pope,  as  of  Elizabeth  in  the  plays  of  Shakespeare.  On  this  great 
subject,  however,  these  indications  must  here  be  sufficient. —  Transferred  from 
Palgrcrve's  Notes. 

CLII 

ODE  ON  THE  PLEASURE  ARISING  FROM 
VICISSITUDE 

Now  the  golden  Morn  aloft 

Waves  her  dew-bespangled  wing, 
With  vermeil  cheek  and  whisper  soft 

She  woos  the  tardy  Spring : 

Till  April  starts,  and  calls  around  5 

The  sleeping  fragrance  from  the  ground, 


144  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  lightly  o'er  the  living  scene 
Scatters  his  freshest,  tenderest  green. 

New-born  flocks,  in  rustic  dance, 

Frisking  ply  their  feeble  feet ; 
Forgetful  of  their  wintry  trance  5 

The  birds  his  presence  greet : 
But  chief,  the  skylark  warbles  high 
His  trembling,  thrilling  ecstasy ; 
And  lessening  from  the  dazzled  sight, 
Melts  into  air  and  liquid  light.  10 

Yesterday  the  sullen  year 

Saw  the  snowy  whirlwind  fly; 
Mute  was  the  music  of  the  air, 

The  herd  stood  drooping  by : 
Their  raptures  now  that  wildly  flow  15 

No  yesterday  nor  morrow  know ; 
'T  is  Man  alone  that  joy  descries 
With  forward  and  reverted  eyes. 

Smiles  on  past  misfortune's  brow 

Soft  reflection's  hand  can  trace,  20 

And  o'er  the  cheek  of  sorrow  throw 

A  melancholy  grace ; 
While  hope  prolongs  our  happier  hour. 
Or  deepest  shades,  that  dimly  lour 
And  blacken  round  our  weary  way,  25 

Gilds  with  a  gleam  of  distant  day. 

Still,  where  rosy  pleasure  leads, 

See  a  kindred  grief  pursue ; 
Behind  the  steps  that  misery  treads 

Approaching  comfort  view :  30 

The  hues  of  bliss  more  brightly  glow 
Chastised  by  sabler  tints  of  woe, 
And  blended  form,  with  artful  strife, 
The  strength  and  harmony  of  life. 


BOOK  THIRD  145 

See  the  wretch  that  long  has  tost 

On  the  thorny  bed  of  pain, 
At  length  repair  his  vigor  lost 

And  breathe  and  walk  again : 
The  meanest  floweret  of  the  vale,  5 

The  simplest  note  that  swells  the  gale, 
The  common  sun,  the  air,  the  skies, 
To  him  are  opening  Paradise. 

T.  Gray 

CLIII 
ODE  TO  SIMPLICITY 

O  Thou,  by  Nature  taught 

To  breathe  her  genuine  thought  10 

In  numbers  warmly  pure,  and  sweetly  strong; 

Who  first,  on  mountains  wild, 

In  Fancy,  loveliest  child, 
Thy  babe,  or  Pleasure's,  nursed  the  powers  of  song! 

Thou,  who  with  hermit  heart,  1 5 

Disdain'st  the  wealth  of  art, 
And  gauds,  and  pageant  weeds,  and  trailing  pall, 

But  com'st,  a  decent  maid 

In  Attic  robe  array 'd, 
O  chaste,  unboastful  Nymph,  to  thee  I  call !  20 

By  all  the  honey'd  store 

On  Hybla's  thy  my  shore, 
By  all  her  blooms  and  mingled  murmurs  dear ; 

By  her  whose  lovelorn  woe 

In  evening  musings  slow  25 

Soothed  sweetly  sad  Electra's  poet's  ear : 

By  old  Cephisus  deep, 
Who  spread  his  wavy  sweep 
In  warbled  wanderings  round  thy  green  retreat ; 


146  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

On  whose  enamell'd  side, 
When  holy  Freedom  died, 
No  equal  haunt  allured  thy  future  feet :  — 

O  sister  meek  of  Truth, 

To  my  admiring  youth  5 

Thy  sober  aid  and  native  charms  infuse ! 

The  flowers  that  sweetest  breathe, 

Though  Beauty  cull'd  the  wreath, 
Still  ask  thy  hand  to  range  their  order'd  hues. 

While  Rome  could  none  esteem  10 

But  Virtue's  patriot  theme, 
You  loved  her  hills,  and  led  her  laureate  band ; 

But  stay'd  to  sing  alone 

To  one  distinguished  throne  ; 
And  turn'd  thy  face,  and  fled  her  alter'd  land.  1 5 

No  more,  in  hall  or  bower, 

The  Passions  own  thy  power ; 
Love,  only  Love,  her  forceless  numbers  mean : 

For  thou  hast  left  her  shrine ; 

Nor  olive  more,  nor  vine,  20 

Shall  gain  thy  feet  to  bless  the  servile  scene. 

Though  taste,  though  genius,  bless 

To  some  divine  excess, 
Faints  the  cold  work  till  thou  inspire  the  whole ; 

What  each,  what  all  supply  25 

May  court,  may  charm  our  eye ; 
Thou,  only  thou,  canst  raise  the  meeting  soul ! 

Of  these  let  others  ask 

To  aid  some  mighty  task ; 
I  only  seek  to  find  thy  temperate  vale ;  30 

Where  oft  my  reed  might  sound 

To  maids  and  shepherds  round, 
And  all  thy  sons,  O  Nature !  learn  my  tale,, 

W.  Collins 


BOOK  THIRD  147 

CLIV 
SOLITUDE 

Happy  the  man,  whose  wish  and  care 
A  few  paternal  acres  bound, 
Content  to  breathe  his  native  air 

In  his  own  ground. 

Whose  herds  with  milk,  whose  fields  with  bread,          5 
Whose  flocks  supply  him  with  attire ; 
Whose  trees  in  summer  yield  him  shade, 
In  winter  fire. 

Blest,  who  can  unconcern'dly  find 

Hours,  days,  and  years,  slide  soft  away  10 

In  health  of  body,  peace  of  mind, 
Quiet  by  day, 

Sound  sleep  by  night ;  study  and  ease 
Together  mixed,  sweet  recreation, 

And  innocence,  which  most  does  please  1 5 

With  meditation. 

Thus  let  me  live,  unseen,  unknown ; 

Thus  unlamented  let  me  die ; 

Steal  from  the  world,  and  not  a  stone 

Tell  where  I  lie.  20 

A.  Pope 

CLV 
THE  BLIND  BOY 

0  say  what  is  that  thing  call'd  Light, 
Which  I  must  ne'er  enjoy ; 

What  are  the  blessings  of  the  sight, 
O  tell  your  poor  blind  boy ! 

You  talk  of  wondrous  things  you  see,  25 

You  say  the  sun  shines  bright; 

1  feel  him  warm,  but  how  can  he 

Or  make  it  day  or  night  ? 


148  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

My  day  or  night  myself  I  make 

Whene'er  I  sleep  or  play ; 
And  could  I  ever  keep  awake 

With  me  't  were  always  day. 

With  heavy  sighs  I  often  hear  5 

You  mourn  my  hapless  woe ; 
But  sure  with  patience  I  can  bear 

A  loss  I  ne'er  can  know. 

Then  let  not  what  I  cannot  have 

My  cheer  of  mind  destroy :  10 

Whilst  thus  I  sing,  I  am  a  king, 

Although  a  poor  blind  boy. 

C.  Gibber 

CLVI 

ON  A  FAVORITE  CAT,  DROWNED  IN  A 
TUB  OF  GOLDFISHES 

'T  was  on  a  lofty  vase's  side, 

Where  China's  gayest  art  had  dyed 

The  azure  flowers  that  blow,  15 

Demurest  of  the  tabby  kind 

The  pensive  Selima,  reclined, 

Gazed  on  the  lake  below. 

Her  conscious  tail  her  joy  declared : 

The  fair  round  face,  the  snowy  beard,  20 

The  velvet  of  her  paws, 

Her  coat  that  with  the  tortoise  vies, 

Her  ears  of  jet,  and  emerald  eyes  — 

She  saw,  and  purr'd  applause. 

Still  had  she  gazed,  but  'midst  the  tide  25 

Two  angel  forms  were  seen  to  glide, 
The  Genii  of  the  stream : 
Their  scaly  armor's  Tyrian  hue 


BOOK  THIRD  149 

Through  richest  purple,  to  the  view 
Betray'd  a  golden  gleam. 

The  hapless  Nymph  with  wonder  saw : 

A  whisker  first,  and  then  a  claw 

With  many  an  ardent  wish  5 

She  stretch'd,  in  vain,  to  reach  the  prize  — 

What  female  heart  can  gold  despise  ? 

What  Cat 's  averse  to  fish  ? 

Presumptuous  maid  !  with  looks  intent 

Again  she  stretch'd,  again  she  bent,  10 

Nor  knew  the  gulf  between  — 

Malignant  Fate  sat  by  and  smiled  — 

The  slippery  verge  her  feet  beguiled ; 

She  tumbled  headlong  in  ! 

Eight  times  emerging  from  the  flood  i  5 

She  mew'd  to  every  watery  God 

Some  speedy  aid  to  send :  — 

No  Dolphin  came,  no  Nereid  stirr'd, 

Nor  cruel  Tom  nor  Susan  heard  — 

A  favorite  has  no  friend  !  20 

From  hence,  ye  Beauties !  undeceived 

Know  one  false  step  is  ne'er  retrieved, 

And  be  with  caution  bold : 

Not  all  that  tempts  your  wandering  eyes 

And  heedless  hearts,  is  lawful  prize,  25 

Nor  all  that  glisters,  gold ! 

T.  Gray 

CLVII 
TO  CHARLOTTE  PULTENEY 

Timely  blossom,  Infant  fair, 

Fondling  of  a  happy  pair, 

Every  morn  and  every  night 

Their  solicitous  delight,  30 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Sleeping,  waking,  still  at  ease, 

Pleasing,  without  skill  to  please ; 

Little  gossip,  blithe  and  hale, 

Tattling  many  a  broken  tale, 

Singing  many  a  tuneless  song,  5 

Lavish  of  a  heedless  tongue ; 

Simple  maiden,  void  of  art, 

Babbling  out  the  very  heart, 

Yet  abandon'd  to  thy  will, 

Yet  imagining  no  ill,  10 

Yet  too  innocent  to  blush ; 

Like  the  linnet  in  the  bush 

To  the  mother  linnet's  note 

Moduling  her  slender  throat ; 

Chirping  forth  thy  petty  joys,  15 

Wanton  in  the  change  of  toys, 

Like  the  linnet  green,  in  May 

Flitting  to  each  bloomy  spray ; 

Wearied  then  and  glad  of  rest, 

Like  the  linnet  in  the  nest :  —  20 

This  thy  present  happy  lot 

This,  in  time  will  be  forgot : 

Other  pleasures,  other  cares, 

Ever-busy  Time  prepares ; 

And  thou  shalt  in  thy  daughter  see,  25 

This  picture,  once,  resembled  thee. 

A.  Philips 

<*  CLVIII 

RULE  BRITANNIA 

When  Britain  first  at  Heaven's  command 

Arose  from  out  the  azure  main, 
This  was  the  charter  of  her  land, 

And  guardian  angels  sang  the  strain :  30 

Rule,  Britannia  !  Britannia  rules  the  waves ! 
Britons  never  shall  be  slaves. 


BOOK  THIRD  151 

The  nations  not  so  blest  as  thee 

Must  in  their  turn  to  tyrants  fall, 
Whilst  thou  shalt  flourish  great  and  free 

The  dread  and  envy  of  them  all. 

Still  more  majestic  shalt  thou  rise,  5 

More  dreadful  from  each  foreign  stroke ; 

As  the  loud  blast  that  tears  the  skies 
Serves  but  to  root  thy  native  oak. 

Thee  haughty  tyrants  ne'er  shall  tame ; 

All  their  attempts  to  bend  thee  down  10 

Will  but  arouse  thy  generous  flame, 

And  work  their  woe  and  thy  renown. 

To  thee  belongs  the  rural  reign ; 

Thy  cities  shall  with  commerce  shine ; 
All  thine  shall  be  the  subject  main,  15 

And  every  shore  it  circles  thine ! 

The  Muses,  still  with  Freedom  found, 

Shall  to  thy  happy  coast  repair ; 
Blest  Isle,  with  matchless  beauty  crown'd 

And  manly  hearts  to  guard  the  fair :  —  20 

Rule,  Britannia !  Britannia  rules  the  waves  ! 
Britons  never  shall  be  slaves  ! 

J.  Thomson 
CLIX 

THE  BARD 

PINDARIC  ODE 

"  Ruin  seize  thee,  ruthless  King ! 
Confusion  on  thy  banners  wait ; 
Tho'  fann'd  by  Conquest's  crimson  wing  25 

They  mock  the  air  with  idle  state. 
Helm,  nor  hauberk's  twisted  mail, 
Nor  e'en  thy  virtues,  Tyrant,  shall  avail 
To  save  thy  secret  soul  from  nightly  fears, 
From  Cambria's  curse,  from  Cambria's  tears  !  "        30 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

—  Such  were  the  sounds  that  o'er  the  crested  pride 

Of  the  first  Edward  scatter'd  wild  dismay, 
As  down  the  steep  of  Snowdon's  shaggy  side 

He  wound  with  toilsome  march  his  long  array :  — 
Stout  Glo'ster  stood  aghast  in  speechless  trance ;  5 

tf  To  arms  !  "  cried  Mortimer,  and  couch'd  his  quivering 
lance. 

On  a  rock,  whose  haughty  brow 
Frowns  o'er  old  Conway's  foaming  flood, 

Robed  in  the  sable  garb  of  woe 

With  haggard  eyes  the  Poet  stood ;  10 

(Loose  his  beard  and  hoary  hair 
Stream'd  like  a  meteor  to  the  troubled  air) 
And  with  a  master's  hand  and  prophet's  fire 
Struck  the  deep  sorrows  of  his  lyre : 

"  Hark,  how  each  giant  oak  and  desert  cave  15 

Sighs  to  the  torrent's  awful  voice  beneath ! 
O'er  thee,  oh  King  !  their  hundred  arms  they  wave, 

Revenge  on  thee  in  hoarser  murmurs  breathe ; 
Vocal  no  more,  since  Cambria's  fatal  day, 
To  highborn  Hoel's  harp,  or  soft  Llewellyn's  lay.  20 

"  Cold  is  Cadwallo's  tongue, 

That  hushed  the  stormy  main  : 
Brave  Urien  sleeps  upon  his  craggy  bed : 

Mountains,  ye  mourn  in  vain 

Modred,  whose  magic  song  25 

Made  huge  Plinlimmon  bow  his  cloud-topt  head. 

On  dreary  Arvon's  shore  they  lie 
Smear'd  with  gore  and  ghastly  pale  : 
Far,  far  aloof  the  affrighted  ravens  sail ; 

The  famish'd  eagle  screams,  and  passes  by.  30 

Dear  lost  companions  of  my  tuneful  art, 

Dear  as  the  light  that  visits  these  sad  eyes, 
Dear  as  the  ruddy  drops  that  warm  my  heart, 

Ye  died  amidst  your  dying  country's  cries  — 


BOOK  THIRD  153 

No  more  I  weep ;  They  do  not  sleep ; 

On  yonder  cliffs,  a  grisly  band, 
I  see  them  sit ;  They  linger  yet, 

Avengers  of  their  native  land : 

With  me  in  dreadful  harmony  they  join,  5 

And  weave  with  bloody  hands  the  tissue  of  thy  line. 

"  Weave  the  warp  and  weave  the  woof 

The  winding  sheet  of  Edward  }s  race  : 
Give  ample  room  and  verge  enough 

The  characters  of  hell  to  trace.  10 

Mark  the  year,  and  mark  the  night, 
When  Severn  shall  reecho  with  affright 
The  shrieks  of  death  thro?  Berkley ''s  roof  that  ring, 
Shrieks  of  an  agonizing  king  ! 

She-wolf  of  France,  with  unrelenting  fangs  15 

That  tear^st  the  bowels  of  thy  mangled  mate, 

From  thee  be  born,  who  o^er  thy  country  hangs 
The  scourge  of  heaven  !   What  terrors  round  him 

wait ! 

Amazement  in  his  van,  with  flight  combined, 
And  sorrow^s  faded  form,  and  solitude  behind.  20 

"Mighty  victor,  mighty  lord, 

Low  on  his  funeral  couch  he  lies  / 
No  pitying  heart,  no  eye,  afford 

A  tear  to  grace  his  obsequies. 

Is  the  sable  warrior  fled?  25 

Thy  son  is  gone.     He  rests  among  the  dead. 
The  swarm  that  in  thy  noontide  beam  were  born  ? 
—  Gone  to  salute  the  rising  morn. 
Fair  laughs  the  Morn,  and  soft  the  zephyr  blows, 

While  proudly  riding  o?er  the  azure  realm .  30 

In  gallant  trim  the  gilded  vessel  goes  : 

Youth  on  the  prow,  and  Pleasure  at  the  helm  : 
Regardless  of  the  sweeping  whirlwind' }s  sway, 
That  hush  ''d  in  grim,  repose  expects  his  evening  prey. 


154  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

"Fill  high  the  sparkling  bowl, 
The  rich  repast  prepare  ; 

Reft  of  a  crown,  he  yet  may  share  the  feast ; 
Close  by  the  regal  chair 

Fell  Thirst  and  Famine  scowl  5 

A  baleful  smile  upon  their  baffled  guest, 
Heard  ye  the  din  of  battle  bray, 

Lance  to  lance,  and  horse  to  horse  ? 

Long  years  of  havoc  urge  their  destined  course, 
And  thro'  the  kindred  squadrons  mow  their  way.          10 

Ye  towers  of  Julius,  London's  lasting  shame, 
With  many  afoul  and  midnight  murder  fed, 

Revere  his  consorfs  faith,  his  fathers  fame, 
And  spare  the  meek  usurpers  holy  head  ! 
Above,  below,  the  rose  of  snow,  15 

Twined  with  her  blushing  foe,  we  spread : 
The  bristled  boar  in  infant  gore 

Wallows  beneath  the  thorny  shade. 
Now,  brothers,  bending  o'er  the  accursed  loom, 
Stamp  we  our  vengeance  deep,  and  ratify  his  doom.      20 

"Edward,  lo  !  to  sudden  fate 

(Weave  we  the  woof;   The  thread  is  spun;} 
Half  of  thy  heart  we  consecrate. 

(The  web  is  wove ;  The  work  is  done} 
—  Stay,  oh  stay  !  nor  thus  forlorn  25 

Leave  me  unbless'd,  unpitied,  here  to  mourn : 
In  yon  bright  track  that  fires  the  western  skies 
They  melt,  they  vanish  from  my  eyes. 
But  oh  !  what  solemn  scenes  on  Snowdon's  height 

Descending  slow  their  glittering  skirts  unroll  ?  30 

Visions  of  glory,  spare  my  aching  sight, 
Ye  unborn  ages,  crowd  not  on  my  soul ! 
No  more  our  long-lost  Arthur  we  bewail :  — 
All  hail !  ye  genuine  kings  !  Britannia's  issue,  hail ! 


BOOK  THIRD  155 

lf  Girt  with  many  a  baron  bold 
Sublime  their  starry  fronts  they  rear ; 

And  gorgeous  dames,  and  statesmen  old 
In  bearded  majesty,  appear. 

In  the  midst  a  form  divine  !  5 

Her  eye  proclaims  her  of  the  Briton  line : 
Her  lion  port,  her  awe-commanding  face 
Attemper'd  sweet  to  virgin  grace. 
What  strings  symphonious  tremble  in  the  air, 

What  strains  of  vocal  transport  round  her  play  ?  10 

Hear  from  the  grave,  great  Taliessin,  hear; 

They  breathe  a  soul  to  animate  thy  clay. 
Bright  Rapture  calls,  and  soaring  as  she  sings, 
Waves  in  the  eye  of  heaven  her  many-color'd  wings. 

"  The  verse  adorn  again  1 5 

Fierce  war,  and  faithful  love, 
And  truth  severe,  by  fairy  fiction  drest. 

In  buskin'd  measures  move 
Pale  grief,  and  pleasing  pain, 

With  horror,  tyrant  of  the  throbbing  breast.  20 

A  voice  as  of  the  cherub  choir 

Gales  from  blooming  Eden  bear, 

And  distant  warblings  lessen  on  my  ear 
That  lost  in  long  futurity  expire. 
Fond  impious  man,  think'st  thou  yon  sanguine  cloud       25 

Raised  by  thy  breath,  has  quenched  the  orb  of  day  ? 
To-morrow  he  repairs  the  golden  flood 

And  warms  the  nations  with  redoubled  ray. 
Enough  for  me :  with  joy  I  see 

The  different  doom  our  fates  assign :  30 

Be  thine  despair  and  sceptered  care, 

To  triumph  and  to  die  are  mine." 
—  He  spoke,  and  headlong  from  the  mountain's  height 
Deep  in  the  roaring  tide  he  plunged  to  endless  night. 

T.  Gray 


156  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CLX 
ODE  WRITTEN  IN  1746 

How  sleep  the  brave,  who  sink  to  rest 

By  all  their  country's  wishes  blest ! 

When  Spring,  with  dewy  fingers  cold, 

Returns  to  deck  their  hallow'd  mold, 

She  there  shall  dress  a  sweeter  sod  5 

Than  Fancy's  feet  have  ever  trod. 

By  fairy  hands  their  knell  is  rung, 

By  forms  unseen  their  dirge  is  sung : 

There  Honor  comes,  a  pilgrim  gray, 

To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  their  clay;  10 

And  Freedom  shall  awhile  repair 

To  dwell  a  weeping  hermit  there ! 

W.  Collins 
CLXI 

LAMENT  FOR  CULLODEN 

The  lovely  lass  o'  Inverness, 

Nae  joy  nor  pleasure  can  she  see ; 

For  e'en  and  morn  she  cries,  Alas !  1 5 

And  aye  the  saut  tear  blins  her  ee : 

Drumossie  moor  —  Drumossie  day  — 

A  waefu'  day  it  was  to  me ! 

For  there  I  lost  my  father  dear, 

My  father  dear,  and  brethren  three.  20 

Their  winding-sheet  the  bluidy  clay, 

Their  graves  are  growing  green  to  see : 

And  by  them  lies  the  dearest  lad 

That  ever  blest  a  woman's  ee ! 

Now  wae  to  thee,  thou  cruel  lord,  25 

A  bluidy  man  I  trow  thou  be ; 

For  mony  a  heart  thou  hast  made  sair 

That  ne'er  did  wrang  to  thine  or  thee. 

R.  Burns 


BOOK  THIRD  157 

CLXII 

LAMENT  FOR  FLODDEN 

I  Ve  heard  them  lilting  at  our  ewe-milking, 

Lasses  a'  lilting  before  dawn  o'  day ; 
But  now  they  are  moaning  on  ilka  green  loaning  — 

The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  a'  wede  away. 

At  bughts,  in  the  morning,  nae  blythe  lads  are  scorning,       5 

Lasses  are  lonely  and  dowie  and  wae; 
Nae  daffin',  nae  gabbin',  but  sighing  and  sabbing, 

Ilk  ane  lifts  her  leglin  and  hies  her  away. 

In  har'st,  at  the  shearing,  nae  youths  now  are  jeering, 

Bandsters  are  lyart,  and  runkled,  and  gray;  10 

At  fair  or  at  preaching,  nae  wooing,  nae  fleeching  — 
The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  a'  wede  away. 

At  e'en,  in  the  gloaming,  nae  younkers  are  roaming 

'Bout  stacks  wi'  the  lasses  at  bogle  to  play ; 
But  ilk  ane  sits  drearie,  lamenting  her  dearie  —  1 5 

The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  weded  away. 

Dool  and  wae  for  the  order,  sent  our  lads  to  the  Border ! 

The  English,  for  ance,  by  guile  wan  the  day ; 
The  Flowers  of  the  Forest,  that  fought  aye  the  foremost, 

The  prime  of  our  land,  are  cauld  in  the  clay.  20 

We  '11  hear  nae  mair  lilting  at  the  ewe-milking ; 

Women  and  bairns  are  heartless  and  wae ; 
Sighing  and  moaning  on  ilka  green  loaning  — 

The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  a'  wede  away. 

/.  Elliot 

CLXIII 
THE  BRAES  OF  YARROW 

Thy  braes  were  bonny,  Yarrow  stream,  25 

When  first  on  them  I  met  my  lover ; 


158  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Thy  braes  how  dreary,  Yarrow  stream, 

When  now  thy  waves  his  body  cover ! 

Forever  now,  O  Yarrow  stream ! 

Thou  art  to  me  a  stream  of  sorrow ; 

For  never  on  thy  banks  shall  I  5 

Behold  my  Love,  the  flower  of  Yarrow ! 

He  promised  me  a  milk-white  steed 
To  bear  me  to  his  father's  bowers ; 
He  promised  me  a  little  page 

To  squire  me  to  his  father's  towers ;  10 

He  promised  me  a  wedding  ring,  — 
The  wedding  day  was  fix'd  to-morrow  ;  — 
Now  he  is  wedded  to  his  grave, 
Alas,  his  watery  grave,  in  Yarrow! 

Sweet  were  his  words  when  last  we  met;  15 

My  passion  I  as  freely  told  him ; 

Clasp'd  in  his  arms,  I  little  thought 

That  I  should  nevermore  behold  him ! 

Scarce  was  he  gone,  I  saw  his  ghost ; 

It  vanish'd  with  a  shriek  of  sorrow ;  20 

Thrice  did  the  water  wraith  ascend, 

And  gave  a  doleful  groan  thro'  Yarrow. 

His  mother  from  the  window  look'd 

With  all  the  longing  of  a  mother ; 

His  little  sister  weeping  walk'd  25 

The  green-wood  path  to  meet  her  brother ; 

They  sought  him  east,  they  sought  him  west, 

They  sought  him  all  the  forest  thorough ; 

They  only  saw  the  cloud  of  night, 

They  only  heard  the  roar  of  Yarrow.  30 

No  longer  from  thy  window  look  — 
Thou  hast  no  son,  thou  tender  mother ! 
No  longer  walk,  thou  lovely  maid;  — 
Alas,  thou  hast  no  more  a  brother ! 


BOOK  THIRD  159 

No  longer  seek  him  east  or  west 
And  search  no  more  the  forest  thorough ; 
For,  wandering  in  the  night  so  dark, 
He  fell  a  lifeless  corpse  in  Yarrow. 

The  tear  shall  never  leave  my  cheek,  5 

No  other  youth  shall  be  my  marrow  — 

I  '11  seek  thy  body  in  the  stream, 

And  then  with  thee  I  '11  sleep  in  Yarrow. 

—  The  tear  did  never  leave  her  cheek, 

No  other  youth  became  her  marrow ;  10 

She  found  his  body  in  the  stream, 

And  now  with  him  she  sleeps  in  Yarrow. 

J.  Logan 

CLXIV 
WILLY  DROWNED  IN  YARROW  1 

Down  in  yon  garden  sweet  and  gay 

Where  bonnie  grows  the  lily, 
I  heard  a  fair  maid  sighing  say,  1 5 

"  My  wish  be  wi'  sweet  Willie ! 

"  Willie  's  rare,  and  Willie 's  fair, 

And  Willie  's  wondrous  bonny ; 
And  Willie  hecht  to  marry  me 

Gin  e'er  he  married  ony.  20 

"  O  gentle  wind,  that  bloweth  south 

From  where  my  Love  repaireth, 
Convey  a  kiss  frae  his  dear  mouth 

And  tell  me  how  he  f areth ! 

"  O  tell  sweet  Willie  to  come  doun  25 

And  hear  the  mavis  singing, 
And  see  the  birds  on  ilka  bush 

And  leaves  around  them  hinging. 

1  An  older  version,  probably  by  several  hands,  of  the  subject  treated  in  the 
preceding  poem. 


160  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

"  The  lav'rock  there,  wi'  her  white  breast 

And  gentle  throat  sae  narrow ; 
There 's  sport  eneuch  for  gentlemen 

On  Leader  haughs  and  Yarrow. 

"  O  Leader  haughs  are  wide  and  braid  5 

And  Yarrow  haughs  are  bonny ; 
There  Willie  hecht  to  marry  me 

If  e'er  he  married  ony. 

"  But  Willie  's  gone,  whom  I  thought  on, 

And  does  not  hear  me  weeping ;  10 

Draws  many  a  tear  frae  true  love's  e'e 
When  other  maids  are  sleeping. 

"  Yestreen  I  made  my  bed  fu'  braid, 

The  night  I  '11  mak'  it  narrow, 
For  a'  the  live-lang  winter  night  1 5 

I  lie  twined  o'  my  marrow. 

"  O  came  ye  by  yon  water-side? 

Pou'd  you  the  rose  or  lily  ? 
Or  came  you  by  yon  meadow  green, 

Or  saw  you  my  sweet  Willie  ?  "  20 

She  sought  him  up,  she  sought  him  down, 

She  sought  him  braid  and  narrow ; 
Syne,  in  the  cleaving  of  a  craig, 
She  found  him  drown'd  in  Yarrow ! 

Anon. 
CLXV 

LOSS  OF  THE  ROYAL  GEORGE 

Toll  for  the  Brave!  25 

The  brave  that  are  no  more ! 
All  sunk  beneath  the  wave 
Fast  by  their  native  shore ! 

Eight  hundred  of  the  brave 

Whose  courage  well  was  tried,  30 


BOOK  THIRD  161 

Had  made  the  vessel  heel 
And  laid  her  on  her  side. 

A  land  breeze  shook  the  shrouds 

And  she  was  overset; 

Down  went  the  Royal  George,  5 

With  all  her  crew  complete. 

Toll  for  the  brave  ! 

Brave  Kempenfelt  is  gone ; 

His  last  sea  fight  is  fought, 

His  work  of  glory  done.  10 

It  was  not  in  the  battle ; 
No  tempest  gave  the  shock ; 
She  sprang  no  fatal  leak, 
She  ran  upon  no  rock. 

His  sword  was  in  its  sheath,  15 

His  fingers  held  the  pen, 
When  Kempenfelt  went  down 
With  twice  four  hundred  men. 

—  Weigh  the  vessel  up 

Once  dreaded  by  our  foes !  20 

And  mingle  with  our  cup 

The  tears  that  England  owes. 

Her  timbers  yet  are  sound, 

And  she  may  float  again 

Full  charged  with  England's  thunder,  25 

And  plow  the  distant  main : 

But  Kempenfelt  is  gone, 
His  victories  are  o'er ; 
And  he  and  his  eight  hundred 
Shall  plow  the  wave  no  more.  30 

W.  Cowper 


162  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CLXVI 

BLACK-EYED  SUSAN 

All  in  the  Downs  the  fleet  was  moor'd, 

The  streamers  waving  in  the  wind, 
When  black-eyed  Susan  came  aboard ; 

"  O  !  where  shall  I  my  true-love  find  ? 
Tell  me,  ye  jovial  sailors,  tell  me  true  5 

If  my  sweet  William  sails  among  the  crew." 

William,  who  high  upon  the  yard 

Rock'd  with  the  billow  to  and  fro, 
Soon  as  her  well-known  voice  he  heard 

He  sigh'd,  and  cast  his  eyes  below :  10 

The  cord  slides  swiftly  through  his  glowing  hands, 
And  quick  as  lightning  on  the  deck  he  stands. 

So  the  sweet  lark,  high  poised  in  air, 

Shuts  close  his  pinions  to  his  breast 
If  chance  his  mate's  shrill  call  he  hear,  1 5 

And  drops  at  once  into  her  nest :  — 
The  noblest  captain  in  the  British  fleet 
Might  envy  William's  lip  those  kisses  sweet. 

"  O  Susan,  Susan,  lovely  dear, 

My  vows  shall  ever  true  remain ;  20 

Let  me  kiss  off  that  falling  tear ; 

We  only  part  to  meet  again. 
Change  as  ye  list,  ye  winds ;  my  heart  shall  be 
The  faithful  compass  that  still  points  to  thee. 

"  Believe  not  what  the  landmen  say  25 

Who  tempt  with  doubts  thy  constant  mind ; 

They  '11  tell  thee,  sailors,  when  away, 
In  every  port  a  mistress  find : 

Yes,  yes,  believe  them  when  they  tell  thee  so, 

For  Thou  art  present  wheresoe'er  I  go.  30 


BOOK  THIRD  163 

ft  If  to  fair  India's  coast  we  sail, 

Thy  eyes  are  seen  in  diamonds  bright, 
Thy  breath  is  Afric's  spicy  gale, 

Thy  skin  is  ivory  so  white. 

Thus  every  beauteous  object  that  I  view  5 

Wakes  in  my  soul  some  charm  of  lovely  Sue. 

"  Though  battle  call  me  from  thy  arms 

Let  not  my  pretty  Susan  mourn ; 
Though  cannons  roar,  yet  safe  from  harms 

William  shall  to  his  Dear  return.  10 

Love  turns  aside  the  balls  that  round  me  fly, 
Lest  precious  tears  should  drop  from  Susan's  eye." 

The  boatswain  gave  the  dreadful  word, 

The  sails  their  swelling  bosom  spread, 
No  longer  must  she  stay  aboard ;  1 5 

They  kiss'd,  she  sigh'd,  he  hung  his  head. 
Her  lessening  boat  unwilling  rows  to  land ; 
"  Adieu ! "  she  cries ;  and  waved  her  lily  hand. 

J.Gay 

CLXVII 

SALLY  IN  OUR  ALLEY 

Of  all  the  girls  that  are  so  smart 

There 's  none  like  pretty  Sally ;  20 

She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 
There  is  no  lady  in  the  land 

Is  half  so  sweet  as  Sally ; 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart,  25 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 

Her  father  he  makes  cabbage  nets 

And  through  the  streets  does  cry  'em ; 

Her  mother  she  sells  laces  long 

To  such  as  please  to  buy  'em :  30 


164  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

But  sure  such  folks  could  ne'er  beget 

So  sweet  a  girl  as  Sally  ! 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 

When  she  is  by,  I  leave  my  work,  5 

I  love  her  so  sincerely ; 
My  master  comes  like  any  Turk, 

And  bangs  me  most  severely  — 
But  let  him  bang  his  bellyful, 

I  '11  bear  it  all  for  Sally ;  10 

She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 

Of  all  the  days  that 's  in  the  week 

I  dearly  love  but  one  day  — 
And  that 's  the  day  that  comes  betwixt  1 5 

A  Saturday  and  Monday ; 
For  then  I  'm  drest  all  in  my  best 

To  walk  abroad  with  Sally ; 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley.  20 

My  master  carries  me  to  church, 

And  often  am  I  blamed 
Because  I  leave  him  in  the  lurch 

As  soon  as  text  is  named ; 
I  leave  the  church  in  sermon  time  25 

And  slink  away  to  Sally ; 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 

When  Christmas  comes  about  again 

0  then  I  shall  have  money ;  30 
I  '11  hoard  it  up,  and  box  it  all, 

1  '11  give  it  to  my  honey : 


BOOK  THIRD  165 

I  would  it  were  ten  thousand  pound, 

I  'd  give  it  all  to  Sally ; 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 

My  master  and  the  neighbors  all  5 

Make  game  of  me  and  Sally, 
And,  but  for  her,  I  'd  better  be 

A  slave  and  row  a  galley ; 
But  when  my  seven  long  years  are  out 

O  then  I  '11  marry  Sally,  —  10 

O  then  we'll  wed,  and  then  we'll  bed  .  .  . 

But  not  in  our  alley ! 

ff.  Carey 


CLXVIII 
A  FAREWELL 

Go  fetch  to  me  a  pint  o'  wine, 

An'  fill  it  in  a  silver  tassie ; 
That  I  may  drink  before  I  go  15 

A  service  to  my  bonnie  lassie : 
The  boat  rocks  at  the  pier  o'  Leith, 

Fu'  loud  the  wind  blaws  frae  the  ferry, 
The  ship  rides  by  the  Berwick-law, 

And  I  maun  leave  my  bonnie  Mary.  20 

The  trumpets  sound,  the  banners  fly, 

The  glittering  spears  are  ranked  ready ; 
The  shouts  o'  war  are  heard  afar, 

The  battle  closes  thick  and  bloody ; 
But  it 's  not  the  roar  o'  sea  or  shore  25 

Wad  make  me  langer  wish  to  tarry ; 
Nor  shout  o'  war  that's  heard  afar  — 

It 's  leaving  thee,  my  bonnie  Mary. 

R.  Burns 


i66  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CLXIX 

If  doughty  deeds  my  lady  please 

Right  soon  I  '11  mount  my  steed ; 
And  strong  his  arm,  and  fast  his  seat 

That  bears  frae  me  the  meed. 
I  '11  wear  thy  colors  in  my  cap,  5 

Thy  picture  at  my  heart ; 
And  he  that  bends  not  to  thine  eye 
Shall  rue  it  to  his  smart ! 

Then  tell  me  how  to  woo  thee,  Love ; 

O  tell  me  how  to  woo  thee !  10 

For  thy  dear  sake,  nae  care  I  '11  take 
Tho'  ne'er  another  trow  me. 

If  gay  attire  delight  thine  eye 

I  '11  dight  me  in  array ; 
I  '11  tend  thy  chamber  door  all  night,  1 5 

And  squire  thee  all  the  day. 
If  sweetest  sound  can  win  thine  ear, 

These  sounds  I  '11  strive  to  catch ; 
Thy  voice  I  '11  steal  to  woo  thysell, 

That  voice  that  nane  can  match.  20 

But  if  fond  love  thy  heart  can  gain, 

I  never  broke  a  vow ; 
Nae  maiden  lays  her  skaith  to  me, 

I  never  loved  but  you. 
For  you  alone  I  ride  the  ring,  25 

For  you,  I  wear  the  blue ; 
For  you  alone  I  strive  to  sing, 
O  tell  me  how  to  woo ! 

Then  tell  me  how  to  woo  thee,  Love ; 

O  tell  me  how  to  woo  thee !  30 

For  thy  dear  sake,  nae  care  I  '11  take, 
Tho'  ne'er  another  trow  me. 

AJ.  Graham 

of  Gartmore 


BOOK  THIRD  167 

CLXX 
TO  A  YOUNG  LADY 

Sweet  stream,  that  winds  through  yonder  glade, 
Apt  emblem  of  a  virtuous  maid  — 
Silent  and  chaste  she  steals  along, 
Far  from  the  world's  gay  busy  throng : 
With  gentle  yet  prevailing  force,  5 

Intent  upon  her  destined  course ; 
Graceful  and  useful  all  she  does. 
Blessing  and  blest  where'er  she  goes ; 
Pure-bosom'd  as  that  watery  glass, 
And  Heaven  reflected  in  her  face.  10 

W.  Cowper 

CLXXI 
THE  SLEEPING  BEAUTY 

Sleep  on,  and  dream  of  Heaven  awhile  — 
Tho'  shut  so  close  thy  laughing  eyes, 
Thy  rosy  lips  still  wear  a  smile 
And  move,  and  breathe  delicious  sighs ! 

Ah,  now  soft  blushes  tinge  her  cheeks  15 

And  mantle  o'er  her  neck  of  snow : 
Ah,  now  she  murmurs,  now  she  speaks 
What  most  I  wish  —  and  fear  to  know ! 

She  starts,  she  trembles,  and  she  weeps ! 

Her  fair  hands  folded  on  her  breast :  20 

—  And  now,  how  like  a  saint  she  sleeps ! 

A  seraph  in  the  realms  of  rest ! 

Sleep  on  secure !  Above  control 

Thy  thoughts  belong  to  Heaven  and  thee : 

And  may  the  secret  of  thy  soul  25 

Remain  within  its  sanctuary ! 

S.  Rogers 


i(>8  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CLXXII 

Forever,  Fortune,  wilt  thou  prove 
An  unrelenting  foe  to  Love, 
And  when  we  meet  a  mutual  heart 
Come  in  between,  and  bid  us  part  ? 

Bid  us  sigh  on  from  day  to  day,  5 

And  wish  and  wish  the  soul  away ; 
Till  youth  and  genial  years  are  flown, 
And  all  the  life  of  life  is  gone  ? 

But  busy,  busy,  still  art  thou, 

To  bind  the  loveless  joyless  vow,  ic 

The  heart  from  pleasure  to  delude, 

To  join  the  gentle  to  the  rude. 

For  once,  O  Fortune,  hear  my  prayer, 

And  I  absolve  thy  future  care ; 

All  other  blessings  I  resign,  1 5 

Make  but  the  dear  Amanda  mine. 

J.  Thomson 

CLXXIII 

The  merchant,  to  secure  his  treasure, 

Conveys  it  in  a  borrow'd  name : 

Euphelia  serves  to  grace  my  measure, 

But  Cloe  is  my  real  flame.  20 

My  spftest  verse,  my  darling  lyre 
Upon  Euphelia's  toilet  lay  — 
When  Cloe  noted  her  desire 
That  I  should  sing,  that  I  should  play. 

My  lyre  I  tune,  my  voice  I  raise,  25 

But  with  my  numbers  mix  my  sighs ; 
And  whilst  I  sing  Euphelia's  praise, 
I  fix  my  soul  on  Cloe's  eyes 


BOOK  THIRD  169 

Fair  Cloe  blush'd :  Euphelia  frown'd : 
I  sang,  and  gazed ;  I  play'd,  and  trembled : 
And  Venus  to  the  Loves  around 
Remark'd  how  ill  we  all  dissembled. 

M.  Prior 

CLXXIV 
LOVE'S  SECRET 

Never  seek  to  tell  thy  love,  5 

Love  that  never  told  can  be ; 
For  the  gentle  wind  doth  move 

Silently,  invisibly. 

I  told  my  love,  I  told  my  love, 

I  told  her  all  my  heart,  10 

Trembling,  cold,  in  ghastly  fears :  — 

Ah !  she  did  depart. 

Soon  after  she  was  gone  from  me 

A  traveler  came  by, 
Silently,  invisibly:  15 

He  took  her  with  a  sigh. 

W.  Blake 

CLXXV 

When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  folly 

And  finds  too  late  that  men  betray,  — 

What  charm  can  soothe  her  melancholy 

What  art  can  wash  her  guilt  away  ?  20 

The  only  art  her  guilt  to  cover, 
To  hide  her  shame  from  every  eye, 
To  give  repentance  to  her  lover 
And  wring  his  bosom,  is  —  to  die. 

O.  Goldsmith 


1.7P  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 


Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Doon 

How  can  ye  blume  sae  fair ! 
How  can  ye  chant,  ye  little  birds, 

And  I  sae  fu'  o'  care ! 

Thou  '11  break  my  heart,  thou  bonnie  bird  5 

That  sings  upon  the  bough ; 
Thou  minds  me  o'  the  happy  days 

When  my  fause  Luve  was  true. 

Thou  '11  break  my  heart,  thou  bonnie  bird 

That  sings  beside  thy  mate ;  10 

For  sae  I  sat,  and  sae  I  sang, 
And  wist  na  o'  my  fate. 

Aft  hae  I  roved  by  bonnie  Doon 

To  see  the  woodbine  twine, 
And  ilka  bird  sang  o'  its  love ;  15 

And  sae  did  I  o'  mine. 

Wi'  lightsome  heart  I  pu'd  a  rose, 

Frae  aff  its  thorny  tree ; 
And  my  fause  luver  staw  the  rose, 

But  left  the  thorn  wi'  me.  20 

K.  Bums 

CLXXVII  .     .  • 

THE  PROGRESS  OF  POESY 
A  PINDARIC  ODE 

Awake,  ^olian  lyre,  awake, 
And  give  to  rapture  all  thy  trembling  strings. 
From  Helicon's  harmonious  springs 

A  thousand  rills  their  mazy  progress  take ; 
The  laughing  flowers  that  .round  them  blow  25 

Drink  life  and  fragrance  as  they  flow. 


BOOK  THIRD  17-1 

Now  the  rich  stream  of  music  winds  along 

Deep,  majestic,  smooth,  and  strong, 

Thro'  verdant  vales,  and  Ceres'  golden  reign ; 

Now  rolling  down  the  steep  amain 

Headlong,  impetuous,  see  it  pour :  5 

The  rocks  and  nodding  groves  re-bellow  to  the  roar. 

Oh  !  Sovereign  of  the  willing  soul, 
Parent  of  sweet  and  solemn-breathing  airs, 
Enchanting  shell !  the  sullen  Cares 

And  frantic  Passions  hear  thy  soft  control.  10 

On  Thracia's  hills  the  Lord  of  War 
Has  curb'd  the  fury  of  his  car 
And  dropt  his  thirsty  lance  at  thy  command. 
Perching  on  the  sceptered  hand 

Of  Jove,  thy  magic  lulls  the  feather'd  king  15 

With  ruffled  plumes,  and  flagging  wing : 
Quench'd  in  dark  clouds  of  slumber  lie 
The  terror  of  his  beak,  and  lightnings  of  his  eye. 

Thee  the  voice,  the  dance,  obey 

Temper'd  to  thy  warbled  lay.  20 

O'er  Idalia's  velvet-green 

The  rosy-crowne'd  Loves  are  seen 

On  Cytherea's  day ; 

With  antic  Sport,  and  blue-eyed  Pleasures, 

Frisking  light  in  frolic  measures;  25 

Now  pursuing,  now  retreating, 

Now  in  circling  troops  they  meet : 
To  brisk  notes  in  cadence  beating 

Glance  their  many-twinkling  feet. 
Slow  melting  strains  their  Queen's  approach  declare :      30 

Where'er  she  turns,  the  Graces  homage  pay : 
With  arms  sublime  that  float  upon  the  air 

In  gliding  state  she  wins  her  easy  way : 
O'er  her  warm  cheek  and  rising  bosom  move 
The  bloom  of  young  Desire  and  purple  light  of  Love.     35 


172  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Man's  feeble  race  what  ills  await ! 
Labor,  and  Penury,  the  racks  of  Pain, 
Disease,  and  Sorrow's  weeping  train, 

And  Death,  sad  refuge  from  the  storms  of  fate ! 
The  fond  complaint,  my  song,  disprove,  5 

And  justify  the  laws  of  Jove. 
Say,  has  he  given  in  vain  the  heavenly  Muse  ? 
Night,  and  all  her  sickly  dews, 
Her  specters  wan,  and  birds  of  boding  cry 
He  gives  to  range  the  dreary  sky :  10 

Till  down  the  eastern  cliffs  afar 
Hyperion's  march  they  spy,  and  glittering  shafts  of  war. 

In  climes  beyond  the  solar  road 
Where  shaggy  forms  o'er  ice-built  mountains  roam, 
The  Muse  has  broke  the  twilight  gloom  1 5 

To  cheer  the  shivering  native's  dull  abode. 
And  oft,  beneath  the  odorous  shade 
Of  Chili's  boundless  forests  laid, 
She  deigns  to  hear  the  savage  youth  repeat 
In  loose  numbers  wildly  sweet  20 

Their  feather-cinctured  chiefs,  and  dusky  loves. 
Her  track,  where'er  the  goddess  roves, 
Glory  pursue,  and  generous  Shame, 
Th'  unconquerable  Mind,  and  Freedom's  holy  flame. 

Woods,  that  wave  o'er  Delphi's  steep,  25 

Isles,  that  crown  th'  ^Egean  deep, 

Fields  that  cool  Ilissus  laves,    -^ 

Or  where  Maeander's  amber  waves 

In  lingering  labyrinths  creep, 

How  do  your  tuneful  echoes  languish,  30 

Mute,  but  to  the  voice  of  anguish ! 

Where  each  old  poetic  mountain 

Inspiration  breathed  around ; 
Every  shade  and  hallow'd  fountain 

Murmur'd  deep  a  solemn  sound :  35 


BOOK  THIRD  173 

Till  the  sad  Nine,  in  Greece's  evil  hour 
Left  their  Parnassus  for  the  Latian  plains. 

Alike  they  scorn  the  pomp  of  tyrant  Power, 
And  coward  Vice,  that  revels  in  her  chains. 

When  Latium  had  her  lofty  spirit  lost,  5 

They  sought,  oh  Albion !  next,  thy  sea-encircled  coast. 

Far  from  the  sun  and  summer  gale 
In  thy  green  lap  was  Nature's  Darling  laid, 
What  time,  where  lucid  Avon  stray'd, 

To  him  the  mighty  Mother  did  unveil  10 

Her  awful  face  :  the  dauntless  child 
Stretch'd  forth  his  little  arms,  and  smiled. 
"  This  pencil  take  "  (she  said),  "  whose  colors  clear 
Richly  paint  the  vernal  year : 

Thine,  too,  these  golden  keys,  immortal  Boy  !  15 

This  can  unlock  the  gates  of  joy ; 
Of  horror  that,  and  thrilling  fears, 
Or  ope  the  sacred  source  of  sympathetic  tears." 

Nor  second  He,  that  rode  sublime 

Upon  the  seraph-wings  of  Ecstasy  20 

The  secrets  of  the  abyss  to  spy : 

He  pass'd  the  flaming  bounds  of  place  and  time : 
The  living  Throne,  the  sapphire-blaze 
Where  angels  tremble  while  they  gaze, 
He  saw ;  but  blasted  with  excess  of  light,  25 

Closed  his  eyes  in  endless  night. 
Behold  where  Dryden's  less  presumptuous  car 
Wide  o'er  the  fields  of  glory  bear 
Two  coursers  of  ethereal  race, 
With  necks  in  thunder  clothed,  and  long-resounding  pace.  30 

Hark,  his  hands  the  lyre  explore ! 
Bright-eyed  Fancy,  hovering  o'er, 
Scatters  from  her  pictured  urn 
Thoughts  that  breathe,  and  words  that  burn. 


174  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

But  ah  !  't  is  heard  no  more  — 
Oh  !  lyre  divine,  what  daring  spirit 
Wakes  thee  now  ?  Tho'  he  inherit 
Nor  the  pride,  nor  ample  pinion, 

That  the  Theban  eagle  bear,  5 

Sailing  with  supreme  dominion 

Thro'  the  azure  deep  of  air : 
Yet  oft  before  his  infant  eyes  would  run 

Such  forms  as  glitter  in  the  Muse's  ray 
With  orient  hues,  unborrow'd  of  the  sun :  10 

Yet  shall  he  mount,  and  keep  his  distant  way 
Beyond  the  limits  of  a  vulgar  fate : 
Beneath  the  Good  how  far  —  but  far  above  the  Great. 

T.  Gray 

CLXXVIII 

THE  PASSIONS 
AN  ODE  FOR  Music 

When  Music,  heavenly  maid,  was  young, 

While  yet  in  early  Greece  she  sung,  15 

The  Passions  oft,  to  hear  her  shell, 

Throng'd  around  her  magic  cell 

Exulting,  trembling,  raging,  fainting, 

Possest  beyond  the  Muse's  painting ; 

By  turns  they  felt  the  glowing  mind  20 

Disturb'd,  delighted,  raised,  refined : 

'Til  once,  'tis  said,  when  all  were  fired, 

Fill'd  with  fury,  rapt,  inspired, 

From  the  supporting  myrtles  round 

They  snatch'd  her  instruments  of  sound,  25 

And,  as  they  oft  had  heard  apart 

Sweet  lessons  of  her  forceful  art, 

Each  (for  Madness  ruled  the  hour) 

Would  prove  his  own  expressive  power. 


BOOK  THIRD  175 

First  Fear  his  hand,  its  skill  to  try, 

Amid  the  chords  bewilder'd  laid, 
And  back  recoil'd,  he  knew  not  why, 

E'en  at  the  sound  himself  had  made. 

Next  Anger  rush'd,  his  eyes  on  fire,  5 

In  lightnings,  own'd  his  secret  stings ; 
In  one  rude  clash  he  struck  the  lyre 

And  swept  with  hurried  hand  the  strings. 

With  woeful  measures  wan  Despair, 

Low  sullen  sounds,  his  grief  beguiled ;  10 

A  solemn,  strange,  and  mingled  air, 

'T  was  sad  by  fits,  by  starts  't  was  wild. 

But  thou,  O  Hope,  with  eyes  so  fair, 

What  was  thy  delighted  measure  ? 
Still  it  whisper'd  promised  pleasure  1 5 

And  bade  the  lovely  scenes  at  distance  hail ! 
Still  would  her  touch  the  strain  prolong ; 

And  from  the  rocks,  the  woods,  the  vale 
She  call'd  on  Echo  still  through  all  the  song ; 

And,  where  her  sweetest  theme  she  chose,  20 

A  soft  responsive  voice  was  heard  at  every  close ; 
And  Hope  enchanted  smiled,  and  waved  her  golden 
hair ;  — 

And  longer  had  she  sung :  —  but  with  a  frown 

Revenge  impatient  rose : 
He  threw  his  blood-stain'd  sword  in  thunder  down ;         25 

And  with  a  withering  look 
The  war-denouncing  trumpet  took 
And  blew  a  blast  so  loud  and  dread, 
Were  ne'er  prophetic  sounds  so  full  of  woe ! 

And  ever  and  anon  he  beat  30 

The  doubling  drum  with  furious  heat ; 
And,  though  sometimes,  each  dreary  pause  between, 


176  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Dejected  Pity  at  his  side 
Her  soul-subduing  voice  applied, 
Yet  still  he  kept  his  wild  unalter'd  mien, 
While   each   strain'd   ball  of   sight  seem'd  bursting 
from  his  head. 

Thy  numbers,  Jealousy,  to  naught  were  fix'd :  5 

Sad  proof  of  thy  distressful  state  ! 
Of  differing  themes  the  veering  song  was  mix'd ; 

And  now  it  courted  Love,  now  raving  call'd  on 
Hate. 

With  eyes  upraised,  as  one  inspired, 

Pale  Melancholy  sat  retired ;  10 

And  from  her  wild  sequester'd  seat, 

In  notes  by  distance  made  more  sweet, 

Pour'd  through  the  mellow  horn  her  pensive  soul : 

And  dashing  soft  from  rocks  around 

Bubbling  runnels  join'd  the  sound ;  15 

Through  glades  and  glooms  the  mingled  measure  stole, 
Or,  o'er  some  haunted  stream,  with  fond  delay, 

Round  an  holy  calm  diffusing, 

Love  of  peace,  and  lonely  musing, 
In  hollow  murmurs  died  away.  20 

But  O  !  how  alter'd  was  its  sprightlier  tone 
When  Cheerfulness,  a  nymph  of  healthiest  hue, 

Her  bow  across  her  shoulder  flung, 

Her  buskins  gemm'd  with  morning  dew, 
Blew  an  inspiring  air,  that  dale  and  thicket  rung,  25 

The  hunter's  call  to  Faun  and  Dryad  known ! 
The  oak-crown'd  Sisters  and  their  chaste-eyed  Queen, 

Satyrs  and  Sylvan  Boys,  were  seen 

Peeping  from  forth  their  alleys  green  : 
Brown  Exercise  rejoiced  to  hear ;  30 

And  Sport  leaped  up,  and  seized  his  beechen  spear. 


BOOK  THIRD  177 

Last  came  Joy's  ecstatic  trial : 
He,  with  viny  crown  advancing, 

First  to  the  lively  pipe  his  hand  addrest : 
But  soon  he  saw  the  brisk  awakening  viol 

Whose  sweet  entrancing  voice  he  loved  the  best :         5 
They  would  have  thought  who  heard  the  strain 
They  saw,  in  Tempe's  vale,  her  native  maids 
Amidst  the  festal-sounding  shades 
To  some  unwearied  minstrel  dancing ; 
While,  as  his  flying  fingers  kiss'd  the  strings,  10 

Love  framed  with  Mirth  a  gay  fantastic  round : 

Loose  were  her  tresses  seen,  her  zone  unbound ; 

And  he,  amidst  his  frolic  play, 

As  if  he  would  the  charming  air  repay, 
Shook  thousand  odors  from  his  dewy  wings.  15 

O  Music !  sphere-descended  maid, 

Friend  of  Pleasure,  Wisdom's  aid ! 

Why,  goddess !  why,  to  us  denied, 

Lay'st  thou  thy  ancient  lyre  aside  ? 

As  in  that  loved  Athenian  bower  20 

You  learn'd  an  all-commanding  power, 

Thy  mimic  soul,  O  Nymph  endear'd, 

Can  well  recall  what  then  it  heard. 

Where  is  thy  native  simple  heart 

Devote  to  Virtue,  Fancy,  Art?  25 

Arise,  as  in  that  elder  time, 

Warm,  energic,  chaste,  sublime ! 

Thy  wonders,  in  that  godlike  age, 

Fill  thy  recording  Sister's  page ;  — 

'T  is  said,  and  I  believe  the  tale,  30 

Thy  humblest  reed  could  more  prevail, 

Had  more  of  strength,  diviner  rage, 

Than  all  which  charms  this  laggard  age : 

E'en  all  at  once  together  found, 

Cecilia's  mingled  world  of  sound :  —  35 


178  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

O  bid  our  vain  endeavors  cease : 
Revive  the  just  designs  of  Greece : 
Return  in  all  thy  simple  state ! 
Confirm  the  tales  her  sons  relate ! 

W.  Collins 

CLXXIX 
THE  SONG  OF  DAVID 

He  sang  of  God,  the  mighty  source  5 

Of  all  things,  the  stupendous  force 

On  which  all  strength  depends : 
From  Whose  right  arm,  beneath  Whose  eyes, 
All  period,  power,  and  enterprise 

Commences,  reigns,  and  ends.  10 

The  world,  the  clustering  spheres  He  made, 
The  glorious  light,  the  soothing  shade, 

Dale,  champaign,  grove  and  hill : 
The  multitudinous  abyss, 
Where  secrecy  remains  in  bliss,  1 5 

And  wisdom  hides  her  skill. 

Tell  them,  I  AM,  Jehovah  said 

To  Moses :  while  Earth  heard  in  dread, 

And,  smitten  to  the  heart, 

At  once,  above,  beneath,  around,  20 

All  Nature,  without  voice  or  sound, 

Replied,  «  O  Lord,  THOU  ART." 

C.  Smart 

CLXXX 
INFANT  JOY 

11 1  have  no  name ; 

I  am  but  two  days  old." 

-What  shall  I  call  thee?  25 

"  I  happy  am ; 


"  Cheerfulness,  a  nymph  of  healthiest  hue,  .  .  . 
Blew  an  inspiring  air,  that  dale  and  thicket  rung, 
The  hunter's  call  to  Faun  and  Dryad  known! " 


"  Sweet  babe,  in  thy  face 
Soft  desires  I  can  trace, 
Secret  joys  and  secret  smiles  .  .  ." 


BOOK  THIRD  179 

Joy  is  my  name." 

—  Sweet  joy  befall  thee ! 

Pretty  joy ! 

Sweet  joy,  but  two  days  old ; 

Sweet  joy  I  call  thee :  5 

Thou  dost  smile : 

I  sing  the  while, 

Sweet  joy  befall  thee ! 

W.  Blake 

CLXXXI 
A  CRADLE  SONG 

Sleep,  sleep,  beauty  bright, 

Dreaming  in  the  joys  of  night ;  10 

Sleep,  sleep;  in  thy  sleep 

Little  sorrows  sit  and  weep. 

Sweet  babe,  in  thy  face 

Soft  desires  I  can  trace, 

Secret  joys  and  secret  smiles,  1 5 

Little  pretty  infant  wiles. 

As  thy  softest  limbs  I  feel, 

Smiles  as  of  the  morning  steal 

O'er  thy  cheek,  and  o'er  thy  breast 

Where  thy  little  heart  doth  rest.  20 

Oh  the  cunning  wiles  that  creep 
In  thy  little  heart  asleep ! 
When  thy  little  heart  doth  wake, 
Then  the  dreadful  light  shall  break. 

W.  Blake 

CLXXXII 

ODE  ON  THE  SPRING 

Lo !  where  the  rosy-bosom'd  Hours,  25 

Fair  Venus'  train,  appear, 
Disclose  the  long-expecting  flowers 

And  wake  the  purple  year ! 


180  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  Attic  warbler  pours  her  throat 
Responsive  to  the  cuckoo's  note, 
The  untaught  harmony  of  Spring : 
While,  whispering  pleasure  as  they  fly, 
Cool  Zephyrs  thro'  the  clear  blue  sky  5 

Their  gather'd  fragrance  fling. 

Where'er  the  oak's  thick  branches  stretch 

A  broader,  browner  shade, 
Where'er  the  rude  and  moss-grown  beech 

O'er-canopies  the  glade,  10 

Beside  some  water's  rushy  brink 
With  me  the  Muse  shall  sit,  and  think 
(At  ease  reclined  in  rustic  state) 
How  vain  the  ardor  of  the  crowd, 
How  low,  how  little  are  the  proud,  15 

How  indigent  the  great ! 

Still  is  the  toiling  hand  of  Care ; 

The  panting  herds  repose  : 
Yet  hark,  how  thro'  the  peopled  air 

The  busy  murmur  glows  !  20 

The  insect-youth  are  on  the  wing, 
Eager  to  taste  the  honeyed  spring 
And  float  amid  the  liquid  noon : 
Some  lightly  o'er  the  current  skim, 
Some  show  their  gayly-gilded  trim  25 

Quick-glancing  to  the  sun. 

To  Contemplation's  sober  eye 

Such  is  the  race  of  Man : 
And  they  that  creep,  and  they  that  fly, 

Shall  end  where  they  began.  30 

Alike  the  Busy  and  the  Gay 
But  flutter  thro'  life's  little  day, 
In  Fortune's  varying  colors  drest : 
Brush'd  by  the  hand  of  rough  Mischance, 


BOOK  THIRD  i8i 

Or  chill'd  by  Age,  their  airy  dance 
They  leave,  in  dust  to  rest. 

Methinks  I  hear  in  accents  low 

The  sportive  kind  reply : 
Poor  moralist !  and  what  art  thou  ?  5 

A  solitary  fly ! 

Thy  joys  no  glittering  female  meets, 
No  hive  hast  thou  of  hoarded  sweets, 
No  painted  plumage  to  display : 

On  hasty  wings  thy  youth  is  flown ;  10 

Thy  sun  is  set,  thy  spring  is  gone  — 

We  frolic  while  't  is  May. 

T.  Gray 

CLXXXIII 
THE  POPLAR  FIELD 

The  poplars  are  fell'd ;  farewell  to  the  shade 

And  the  whispering  sound  of  the  cool  colonnade ; 

The  winds  play  no  longer  and  sing  in  the  leaves,  15 

Nor  Ouse  on  his  bosom  their  image  receives. 

Twelve  years  have  elapsed  since  I  first  took  a  view 

Of  my  favorite  field,  and  the  bank  where  they  grew : 

And  now  in  the  grass  behold  they  are  laid, 

And  the  tree  is  my  seat  that  once  lent  me  a  shade !          20 

The  blackbird  has  fled  to  another  retreat 
Where  the  hazels  afford  him  a  screen  from  the  heat ; 
And  the  scene  where  his  melody  charm'd  me  before 
Resounds  with  his  sweet-flowing  ditty  no  more. 

My  fugitive  years  are  all  hasting  away,  25 

And  I  must  erelong  lie  as  lowly  as  they, 

With  a  turf  on  my  breast  and  a  stone  at  my  head, 

Ere  another  such  grove  shall  arise  in  its  stead. 


1 82  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  change  both  my  heart  and  my  fancy  employs ; 
I  reflect  on  the  frailty  of  man  and  his  joys : 
Short-lived  as  we  are,  yet  our  pleasures,  we  see, 
Have  a  still  shorter  date,  and  die  sooner  than  we. 

W.  Coivper 

CLXXXIV 
TO  A  MOUSE 

ON  TURNING  HER  UP  IN  HER  NEST,  WITH  THE  PLOW, 
NOVEMBER,  1785 

Wee,  sleekit,  cow'rin',  tim'rous  beastie,  5 

0  what  a  panic 's  in  thy  breastie ! 
Thou  need  na  start  awa  sae  hasty, 
Wi'  bickering  brattle ! 

1  wad  be  laith  to  rin  an'  chase  thee 

Wi'  murd'ring  pattle !  10 

I  'm  truly  sorry  man's  dominion 

Has  broken  Nature's  social  union, 

An'  justifies  that  ill  opinion 

Which  makes  thee  startle 

At  me,  thy  poor  earthborn  companion,  15 

An'  fellow  mortal ! 

I  doubt  na,  whiles,  but  thou  may  thieve ; 

What  then  ?  poor  beastie,  thou  maun  live  ! 

A  daimen-icker  in  a  thrave 

'S  a  sma'  request :  20 

I  '11  get  a  blessin'  wi'  the  lave, 

And  never  miss 't ! 

Thy  wee  bit  housie,  too,  in  ruin ! 

Its  silly  wa's  the  win's  are  strewin : 

And  naething,  now,  to  big  a  new  ane,  25 

O'  foggage  green ! 

An'  bleak  December's  winds  ensuin' 

Baith  snell  an'  keen  ! 


BOOK  THIRD  183 

Thou  saw  the  fields  laid  bare  an*  waste 

An*  weary  winter  comin'  fast, 

An*  cozie  here,  beneath  the  blast, 

Thou  thought  to  dwell, 

Till,  crash !  the  cruel  colter  past  5 

Out  thro1  thy  cell. 

That  wee  bit  heap  o'  leaves  an*  stibble 

Has  cost  thee  mony  a  weary  nibble ! 

Now  thou  's  turn'd  out,  for  a*  thy  trouble, 

But  house  or  hald,  10 

To  thole  the  winter's  sleety  dribble 

An*  cranreuch  cauld ! 

But,  Mousie,  thou  art  no  thy  lane 

In  proving  foresight  may  be  vain : 

The  best  laid  schemes  o*  mice  an*  men  15 

Gang  aft  a-gley, 

An*  lea*e  us  naught  but  grief  an*  pain, 

For  promised  joy. 

Still  thou  art  blest,  compared  wi*  me ! 

The  present  only  toucheth  thee :  20 

But,  Och !  I  backward  cast  my  e*e 

On  prospects  drear ! 

An*  forward,  tho*  I  canna  see, 

I  guess  an*  fear ! 

R.  Bums 


CLXXXV 

A  WISH 

Mine  be  a  cot  beside  the  hill ;  25 

A  bee-hive's  hum  shall  soothe  my  ear ; 
A  willowy  brook  that  turns  a  mill, 
With  many  a  fall  shall  linger  near. 


184  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  swallow,  oft,  beneath  my  thatch 
Shall  twitter  from  her  clay-built  nest ; 
Oft  shall  the  pilgrim  lift  the  latch, 
And  share  my  meal,  a  welcome  guest. 

Around  my  ivied  porch  shall  spring  5 

Each  fragrant  flower  that  drinks  the  dew ; 
And  Lucy,  at  her  wheel,  shall  sing 
In  russet  gown  and  apron  blue. 

The  village  church  among  the  trees, 

Where  first  our  marriage  vows  were  given,  10 

With  merry  peals  shall  swell  the  breeze 

And  point  with  taper  spire  to  Heaven. 

S.  Rogers 

CLXXXVI 
ODE  TO  EVENING 

If  aught  of  oaten  stop  of  pastoral  song 

May  hope,  O  pensive  Eve,  to  soothe  thine  ear 

Like  thy  own  solemn  springs,  15 

Thy  springs,  and  dying  gales ; 

O  Nymph  reserved,  —  while  now  the  bright-hair'd  sun 
Sits  in  yon  western  tent,  whose  cloudy  skirts, 

With  brede  ethereal  wove, 

O'erhang  his  wavy  bed;  20 

Now  air  is  frush'd,  save  where  the  weak-eyed  bat 
With  short  shrill  shriek  flits  by  on  leathern  wing, 

Or  where  the  beetle  winds 

His  small  but  sullen  horn, 

As  oft  he  rises  midst  the  twilight  path,  25 

Against  the  pilgrim  borne  in  heedless  hum,  — 

Now  teach  me,  maid  composed, 

To  breathe  some  soften'd  strain 


BOOK  THIRD  185 

Whose  numbers,  stealing  through  thy  darkening  vale, 
May  not  unseemly  with  its  stillness  suit ; 

As,  musing  slow,  I  hail 

Thy  genial  loved  return. 

For  when  thy  folding-star  arising  shows  5 

His  paly  circlet,  at  his  warning  lamp 

The  fragrant  Hours,  and  Elves 

Who  slept  in  buds  the  day, 

And  many  a  Nymph  who  wreathes  her  brows  with 

sedge 
And  sheds  the  freshening  dew,  and,  lovelier  still,  10 

The  pensive  Pleasures  sweet, 

Prepare  thy  shadowy  car. 

Then  let  me  rove  some  wild  and  heathy  scene ; 
Or  find  some  ruin  midst  its  dreary  dells, 

Whose  walls  more  awful  nod  15 

By  thy  religious  gleams. 

Or,  if  chill  blustering  winds  or  driving  rain 
Prevent  my  willing  feet,  be  mine  the  hut 

That,  from  the  mountain's  side, 

Views  wilds,  and  swelling  floods,  20 

And  hamlets  brown,  and  dim-discover'd  spires ; 
And  hears  their  simple  bell ;  and  marks  o'er  all 

Thy  dewy  fingers  draw 

The  gradual  dusky  veil. 

While  Spring  shall  pour  his  showers,  as  oft  he  wont,       25 
And  bathe  thy  breathing  tresses,  meekest  Eve ! 

While  Summer  loves  to  sport 

Beneath  thy  lingering  light ; 

'While  sallow  Autumn  fills  thy  lap  with  leaves ; 

Or  Winter,  yelling  through  the  troublous  air,  30 

Affrights  thy  shrinking  train 

And  rudely  rends  thy  robes ; 


i86  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

So  long,  regardful  of  thy  quiet  rule, 

Shall  Fancy,  Friendship,  Science,  smiling  Peace, 

Thy  gentlest  influence  own, 

And  love  thy  favorite  name ! 

W.  Collins 

CLXXXVII 
ELEGY  WRITTEN  IN  A  COUNTRY  CHURCHYARD 

The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day,  5 

The  lowing  herd  wind  slowly  o'er  the  lea, 
The  plowman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way, 
And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me. 

Now  fades  the  glimmering  landscape  on  the  sight, 
And  all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds,  10 

Save  where  the  beetle  wheels  his  droning  flight, 
And  drowsy  tinklings  lull  the  distant  folds : 

Save  that  from  yonder  ivy-mantled  tower 

The  moping  owl  does  to  the  moon  complain 

Of  such  as,  wandering  near  her  secret  bower,  15 

Molest  her  ancient  solitary  reign. 

Beneath  those  rugged  elms,  that  yew-tree's  shade 
Where  heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  moldering  heap, 
Each  in  his  narrow  cell  forever  laid, 
The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep.  20 

The  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing  morn, 
The  swallow  twittering  from  the  straw-built  shed, 
The  cock's  shrill  clarion,  or  the  echoing  horn, 
No  more  shall  rouse  them  from  their  lowly  bed. 

For  them  no  more  the  blazing  hearth  shall  burn  25 

Or  busy  housewife  ply  her  evening  care : 
No  children  run  to  lisp  their  sire's  return, 
Or  climb  his  knees  the  envied  kiss  to  share. 


BOOK  THIRD  187 

Oft  did  the  harvest  to  their  sickle  yield, 
Their  furrow  oft  the  stubborn  glebe  has  broke ; 
How  jocund  did  they  drive  their  team  afield ! 
How  bow'd  the  woods  beneath  their  sturdy  stroke ! 

Let  not  ambition  mock  their  useful  toil,  5 

Their  homely  joys,  and  destiny  obscure  ; 
Nor  grandeur  hear  with  a  disdainful  smile 
The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor. 

The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave,  10 

Awaits  alike  th'  inevitable  hour :  — 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. 

Nor  you,  ye  proud,  impute  to  these  the  fault 

If  memory  o'er  their  tomb  no  trophies  raise, 

Where  through  the  long-drawn  aisle  and  fretted  vault     1 5 

The  pealing  anthem  swells  the  note  of  praise. 

Can  storied  urn  or  animated  bust 

Back  to  its  mansion  call  the  fleeting  breath  ? 

Can  honor's  voice  provoke  the  silent  dust, 

Or  flattery  soothe  the  dull  cold  ear  of  death  ?  20 

Perhaps  in  this  neglected  spot  is  laid 
Some  heart  once  pregnant  with  celestial  fire ; 
Hands,  that  the  rod  of  empire  might  have  sway'd, 
Or  waked  to  ecstasy  the  living  lyre  : 

But  knowledge  to  their  eyes  her  ample  page  25 

Rich  with  the  spoils  of  time,  did  ne'er  unroll ; 
Chill  penury  repress'd  their  noble  rage, 
And  froze  the  genial  current  of  the  soul. 

Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene 

The  dark  unfathom'd  caves  of  ocean  bear :  30 

Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 

And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.     ieM, 


i88  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Some  village  Hampden,  that  with  dauntless  breast 
The  little  tyrant  of  his  fields  withstood, 
Some  mute  inglorious  Milton  here  may  rest, 
Some  Cromwell,  guiltless  of  his  country's  blood. 

Th'  applause  of  listening  senates  to  command,  5 

The  threats  of  pain  and  ruin  to  despise, 
To  scatter  plenty  o'er  a  smiling  land, 
And  read  their  history  in  a  nation's  eyes 

Their  lot  forbade :  nor  circumscribed  alone 

Their  growing  virtues,  but  their  crimes  confined ;  10 

Forbade  to  wade  thro'  slaughter  to  a  throne, 

And  shut  the  gates  of  mercy  on  mankind ; 

The  struggling  pangs  of  conscious  truth  to  hide, 

To  quench  the  blushes  of  ingenuous  shame, 

Or  heap  the  shrine  of  luxury  and  pride  *      15 

With  incense  kindled  at  the  Muse's  flame. 

Far  from  the  madding  crowd's  ignoble  strife 

Their  sober  wishes  never  learn'd  to  stray ; 

Along  the  cool  sequester'd  vale  of  life 

They  kept  the  noiseless  tenor  of  their  way.  20 

Yet  e'en  these  bones  from  insult  to  protect 

Some  frail  memorial  still  erected  nigh, 

With  uncouth  rhymes  and  shapeless  sculpture  deck'd, 

Implores  the  passing  tribute  of  a  sigh. 

Their  name,'their  years,  spelled  by  th'  unlettered  Muse,    25 
The  place  of  fame  and  elegy  supply : 
And  many  a  holy  text  around  she  strews, 
That  teach  the  rustic  moralist  to  die. 

For  who,  to  dumb  forgetfulness  a  prey, 

This  pleasing  anxious  being  e'er  resign'd,  30 

Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day, 

Nor  cast  one  longing  lingering  look  behind  ? 


BOOK  THIRD  189 

On  some  fond  breast  the  parting  soul  relies, 
Some  pious  drops  the  closing  eye  requires  ; 
E'en  from  the  tomb  the  voice  of  nature  cries, 
E'en  in  our  ashes  live  their  wonted  fires. 

For  thee,  who,  mindful  of  th'  unhonor'd  dead,  5 

Dost  in  these  lines  their  artless  tale  relate ; 
If  chance,  by  lonely  contemplation  led, 
Some  kindred  spirit  shall  inquire  thy  fate, 

Haply  some  hoary-headed  swain  may  say, 

"Oft  have  we  seen  him  at  the  peep  of  dawn  10 

Brushing  with  hasty  steps  the  dews  away, 

To  meet  the  sun  upon  the  upland  lawn ; 

"  There  at  the  foot  of  yonder  nodding  beech 

That  wreathes  its  old  fantastic  roots  so  high, 

His  listless  length  at  noontide  would  he  stretch,  15 

And  pore  upon  the  brook  that  babbles  by. 

"  Hard  by  yon  wood,  now  smiling  as  in  scorn, 

Muttering  his  wayward  fancies  he  would  rove ; 

Now  drooping,  woeful-wan,  like  one  forlorn, 

Or  crazed  with  care,  or  cross'd  in  hopeless  love.  20 

"  One  morn  I  miss'd  him  on  the  custom'd  hill, 
Along  the  heath,  and  near  his  favorite  tree ; 
Another  came ;  nor  yet  beside  the  rill, 
Nor  up  the  lawn,  nor  at  the  wood  was  he ; 

"  The  next  with  dirges  due  in  sad  array  25 

Slow  through  the  church-way  path  we  saw  him  borne,  — 
Approach  and  read  (for  thou  canst  read)  the  lay 
Graved  on  the  stone  beneath  yon  aged  thorn." 

THE  EPITAPH 

Here  rests  his  head  upon  the  lap  of  earth 

A  youth,  to  fortune  and  to  fame  unknown ;  30 

Fair  science  frown'd  not  on  his  humble  birth 

And  melancholy  mark'd  him  for  her  own. 


190  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Large  was  his  bounty,  and  his  soul  sincere. 

Heaven  did  a  recompense  as  largely  send : 

He  gave  to  misery  (all  he  had)  a  tear, 

He  gain'd  from  Heaven  ('t  was  all  he  wish'd)  a  friend. 

No  farther  seek  his  merits  to  disclose,  5 

Or  draw  his  frailties  from  their  dread  abode 
(There  they  alike  in  trembling  hope  repose), 
The  bosom  of  his  Father  and  his  God. 

T.  Gray 

CLXXXVIII 
MARY   MORISON 

0  Mary,  at  thy  window  be, 

It  is  the  wish'd,  the  trysted  hour !  10 

Those  smiles  and  glances  let  me  see 

That  make  the  miser's  treasure  poor : 

How  blithely  wad  I  bide  the  stoure, 

A  weary  slave  frae  sun  to  sun, 

Could  I  the  rich  reward  secure,  15 

The  lovely  Mary  Morison. 

Yestreen  when  to  the  trembling  string 
The  dance  gaed  thro'  the  lighted  ha', 
To  thee  my  fancy  took  its  wing,  — 

1  sat,  but  neither  heard  nor  saw :  20 
Tho'  this  was  fair,  and  that  was  braw, 

And  yon  the  toast  of  a'  the  town, 
I  sigh'd,  and  said  amang  them  a', 
"  Ye  are  na  Mary  Morison." 

O  Mary,  canst  thou  wreck  his  peace  25 

Wha  for  thy  sake  wad  gladly  dee  ? 
Or  canst  thou  break  that  heart  of  his, 
Whase  only  f aut  is  loving  thee  ? 


BOOK  THIRD  191 

If  love  for  love  thou  wilt  na  gie, 
At  least  be  pity  to  me  shown ; 
A  thought  ungentle  canna  be 
The  thought  o'  Mary  Morison. 

R.  Burns 

CLXXXIX 
BONNIE  LESLEY 

O  saw  ye  bonnie  Lesley  5 

As  she  gaed  o'er  the  border  ? 
She  's  gane,  like  Alexander, 

To  spread  her  conquests  farther. 

To  see  her  is  to  love  her, 

And  love  but  her  forever;  10 

For  Nature  made  her  what  she  is, 

And  ne'er  made  sic  anither ! 

Thou  art  a  queen,  Fair  Lesley, 

Thy  subjects  we,  before  thee ; 
Thou  art  divine,  Fair  Lesley,  15 

The  hearts  o'  men  adore  thee. 

The  Deil  he  could  na  scaith  thee, 

Or  aught  that  wad  belang  thee  ; 
He  'd  look  into  thy  bonnie  face, 

And  say  "  I  canna  wrang  thee  !  "  20 

The  Powers  aboon  will  tent  thee ; 

Misfortune  sha'  na  steer  thee  ; 
Thou  'rt  like  themselves  sae  lovely 

That  ill  they  '11  ne'er  let  near  thee. 

Return  again,  Fair  Lesley,  25 

Return  to  Caledonie ! 
That  we  may  brag  we  hae  a  lass 

There  's  nane  again  sae  bonnie. 

R.  Bums 


192  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

cxc 

O  my  Luve  's  like  a  red,  red  rose 
That 's  newly  sprung  in  June : 

0  my  Luve  's  like  the  melodic 
That 's  sweetly  play'd  in  tune. 

As  fair  art  thou,  my  bonnie  lass,  5 

So  deep  in  luve  am  I : 
And  I  will  luve  thee  still,  my  dear, 

Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry : 

Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry,  my  dear, 

And  the  rocks  melt  wi'  the  sun  ;  10 

1  will  luve  thee  still,  my  dear, 

While  the  sands  o'  life  shall  run. 

And  fare  thee  weel,  my  only  Luve ! 

And  fare  thee  weel  awhile ; 
And  I  will  come  again,  my  Luve,  15 

Tho'  it  were  ten  thousand  mile. 

R.  Burns 

CXCI 
HIGHLAND  MARY 

Ye  banks  and  braes  and  streams  around 

The  castle  o'  Montgomery, 
Green  be  your  woods,  and  fair  your  flowers, 

Your  waters  never  drumlie !  20 

There  sjmmer  first  unfauld  her  robes, 

And  there  the  langest  tarry ; 
For  there  I  took  the  last  fareweel 

O'  my  sweet  Highland  Mary. 

How  sweetly  bloom'd  the  gay  green  birk,  25 

How  rich  the  hawthorn's  blossom, 
As  underneath  their  fragrant  shade 

I  clasp'd  her  to  my  bosom ! 


BOOK  THIRD  193 

The  golden  hours  on  angel  wings 

Flew  o'er  me  and  my  dearie ; 
For  dear  to  me  as  light  and  life 

Was  my  sweet  Highland  Mary. 

Wi'  mony  a  vow  and  lock'd  embrace  5 

Our  parting  was  fu'  tender ; 
And  pledging  aft  to  meet  again, 

We  tore  oursels  asunder ; 
But,  Oh  !  fell  Death's  untimely  frost, 

That  nipt  my  flower  sae  early!  10 

Now  green's  the  sod,  and  cauld's  the  clay, 

That  wraps  my  Highland  Mary ! 

O  pale,  pale  now,  those  rosy  lips, 

I  aft  hae  kiss'd  sae  fondly ; 
^.nd  closed  for  aye  the  sparkling  glance  1 5 

That  dwelt  on  me  sae  kindly ; 
And  moldering  now  in  silent  dust 

That  heart  that  lo'ed  me  dearly ! 
But  still  within  my  bosom's  core 

Shall  live  my  Highland  Mary.  20 

R.  Burns 

CXCII 
AULD  ROBIN  GRAY 

When  the  sheep  are  in  the  fauld,  and  the  kye  at  hame, 
And  a'  the  world  to  rest  are  gane, 
The  waes  o'  my  heart  fa'  in  showers  frae  my  e'e, 
While  my  gudeman  lies  sound  by  me. 

Young  Jamie  lo'ed  me  weel,  and  sought  me  for  his  bride ;       25 

But  saving  a  croun  he  had  naething  else  beside : 

To  make  the  croun  a  pund,  young  Jamie  gaed  to  sea ; 

And  the  croun  and  the  pund  were  baith  for  me. 

He  hadna  been  awa'  a  week  but  only  twa, 

When  my  father  brak  his  arm,  and  the  cow  was  stown  awa ;      30 


194  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

My  mother  she  fell  sick,  and  my  Jamie  at  the  sea  — 
And  auld  Robin  Gray  came  a-courtin'  me. 

My  father  couldna  work,  and  my  mother  couldna  spin ; 
I  toiPd  day  and  night,  but  their  bread  I  couldna  win ; 
Auld  Rob  maintained  them  baith,  and  wi'  tears  in  his  e'e     5 
Said,  Jennie,  for  their  sakes,  O,  marry  me  ! 

My  heart  it  said  nay ;  I  look'd  for  Jamie  back ; 

But  the  wind  it  blew  high,  and  the  ship  it  was  a  wrack ; 

His  ship  it  was  a  wrack  —  why  didna  Jamie  dee  ? 

Or  why  do  I  live  to  cry,  Wae  's  me?  10 

My  father  urgit  sair :  my  mother  didna  speak ; 
But  she  look'd  in  my  face  till  my  heart  was  like  to  break  ; 
They  gi'ed  him  my  hand,  but  my  heart  was  at  the  sea ; 
Sae  auld  Robin  Gray  he  was  gudeman  to  me. 

I  hadna  been  a  wife  a  week  but  only  four,       /  15 

When  mournfu'  as  I  sat  on  the  stane  at  the  door, 
I  saw  my  Jamie's  wraith,  for  I  couldna  think  it  he 
Till  he  said,  I  'm  come  hame  to  marry  thee. 

0  sair,  sair  did  we  greet,  and  muckle  did  we  say ; 

We  took  but  ae  kiss,  and  I  bad  him  gang  away ;  20 

1  wish  that  I  were  dead,  but  I  'm  no  like  to  dee ; 
And  why  was  I  born  to  say,  Wae 's  me  ? 

I  gang  like  a  ghaist,  and  I  carena  to  spin ; 

I  daurna  think  on  Jamie,  for  that  wad  be  a  sin ; 

But  I  '11  do  my  best  a  gude  wife  aye  to  be,  25 

For  auld  Robin  Gray  he  is  kind  unto  me. 

Lady  A.  Lindsay 
CXCIII 

DUNCAN  GRAY 

Duncan  Gray  cam  here  to  woo, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ; 
On  blithe  Yule  night  when  we  were  fou, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't :  30 


BOOK  THIRD  195 

Maggie  coost  her  head  fu'  high, 

Look'd  asklent  and  unco  skeigh, 

Gart  poor  Duncan  stand  abeigh ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't! 

Duncan  fleech'd,  and  Duncan  pray'd ;  5 

Meg  was  deaf  as  Ailsa  Craig ; 
Duncan  sigh'd  baith  out  and  in, 
Grat  his  een  baith  bleer't  and  blin', 
Spak  o'  lowpin  ower  a  linn ! 

Time  and  chance  are  but  a  tide,  10 

Slighted  love  is  sair  to  bide ; 

Shall  I,  like  a  fool,  quoth  he, 

For  a  haughty  hizzie  dee  ? 

She  may  gae  to  —  France  for  me ! 

How  it  comes  let  doctors  tell,  1 5 

Meg  grew  sick  —  as  he  grew  well ; 

Something  in  her  bosom  wrings, 

For  relief  a  sigh  she  brings ! 

And  O,  her  een,  they  spak  sic  things  1 

Duncan  was  a  lad  o'  grace ;  20 

Maggie's  was  a  piteous  case  ; 
Duncan  couldna  be  her  death, 
Swelling  pity  smoor'd  his  wrath ; 
Now  they  're  crouse  and  canty  baith : 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't!  25 

R.  Bums 

CXCIV 
THE  SAILOR'S  WIFE 

And  are  ye  sure  the  news  is  true  ? 

And  are  ye  sure  he  's  weel  ? 
Is  this  the  time  to  think  o'  wark? 

Ye  jades,  lay  by  your  wheel ; 
Is  this  the  time  to  spin  a  thread,  30 

When  Colin  's  at  the  door? 


196  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Reach  down  my  cloak,  I  '11  to  the  quay, 

And  see  him  come  ashore. 
For  there  's  nae  luck  about  the  house, 

There  's  nae  luck  at  a' ; 
There  Js  little  pleasure  in  the  house  5 

When  our  gudeman  's  awa'. 

And  gie  to  me  my  bigonet, 

My  bishop's  satin  gown ; 
For  I  maun  tell  the  baillie's  wife 

That  Colin  's  in  the  town.  10 

My  Turkey  slippers  maun  gae  on, 

My  stockins  pearly  blue ; 
It 's  a7  to  pleasure  our  gudeman, 

For  he  's  baith  leal  and  true. 

Rise,  lass,  and  mak  a  clean  fireside,  15 

Put  on  the  muckle  pot ; 
Gie  little  Kate  her  button  gown 

And  Jock  his  Sunday  coat ; 
And  mak  their  shoon  as  black  as  slaes, 

Their  hose  as  white  as  snaw ;  20 

It 's  a'  to  please  my  ain  gudeman, 

For  he  's  been  long  awa. 

There  's  twa  fat  hens  upo'  the  coop 

Been  fed  this  month  and  mair ; 
Mak  haste  and  thraw  their  necks  about,  25 

That  Colin  weel  may  fare ; 
And  ^spread  the  table  neat  and  clean, 

Gar  ilka  thing  look  braw, 
For  wha  can  tell  how  Colin  fared 

When  he  was  far  awa  ?  30 

Sae  true  his  heart,  sae  smooth  his  speech, 

His  breath  like  caller  air ; 
His  very  foot  has  music  in  't 

As  he  comes  up  the  stair  — 


BOOK  THIRD  197 

And  will  I  see  his  face  again  ? 

And  will  I  hear  him  speak  ? 
I  'm  downright  dizzy  wi'  the  thought, 

In  troth,  I  'm  like  to  greet ! 

If  Colin  's  weel,  and  weel  content,  5 

I  hae  nae  mair  to  crave : 
And  gin  I  live  to  keep  him  sae, 

I  'm  blest  aboon  the  lave : 
And  will  I  see  his  face  again  ? 

And  will  I  hear  him  speak  ?  10 

I  'm  downright  dizzy  wi'  the  thought, 

In  troth  I  'm  like  to  greet ! 
For  there  's  nae  luck  about  the  house, 

There  's  nae  luck  at  a' ; 
There  's  little  pleasure  in  the  house  1 5 

When  our  gudeman  's  awa'. 

W.J.  Mickle 
cxcv 

ABSENCE 

When  I  think  on  the  happy  days 

I  spent  wi'  you,  my  dearie ; 
And  now  what  lands  between  us  lie, 

How  can  I  be  but  eerie !  20 

How  slow  ye  move,  ye  heavy  hours, 

As  ye  were  wae  and  weary  ! 
It  was  na  sae  ye  glinted  by 
When  I  was  wi'  my  dearie. 

Anon. 
cxcvi 

JEAN 

Of  a'  the  airts  the  wind  can  blaw  25 

I  dearly  like  the  West, 
For  there  the  bonnie  lassie  lives. 

The  lassie  I  lo'e  best: 


198  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

There  wild  woods  grow,  and  rivers  row, 

And  mony  a  hill  between ; 
But  day  and  night  my  fancy's  flight 

Is  ever  wi'  my  Jean. 

I  see  her  in  the  dewy  flowers,  5 

I  see  her  sweet  and  fair : 
I  hear  her  in  the  tunefu'  birds, 

I  hear  her  charm  the  air  : 
There  's  not  a  bonnie  flower  that  springs 

By  fountain,  shaw,  or  green,  10 

There  's  not  a  bonnie  bird  that  sings 

But  minds  me  o'  my  Jean. 

O  blaw  ye  westlin  winds,  blaw  saft 

Amang  the  leafy  trees ; 
Wi'  balmy  gale,  frae  hill  and  dale  15 

Bring  hame  the  laden  bees ; 
And  bring  the  lassie  back  to  me 

That 's  aye  sae  neat  and  clean ; 
Ae  smile  o'  her  wad  banish  care, 

Sae  charming  is  my  Jean.  20 

What  sighs  and  vows  amang  the  knowes 

Hae  pass'd  atween  us  twa  ! 
How  fond  to  meet,  how  wae  to  part 

That  night  she  gaed  awa  ! 
The  Powers  aboon  can  only  ken  25 

To  whom  the  heart  is  seen, 
That  nane  can  be  sae  dear  to  me 

As  my  sweet  lovely  Jean  ! 

K.  Bums 
CXCVII 

JOHN  ANDERSON 

John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 

When  we  were  first  acquent  30 

Your  locks  were  like  the  raven, 

Your  bonnie  brow  was  brent ; 


BOOK  THIRD  199 

But  now  your  brow  is  bald,  John, 
Your  locks  are  like  the  snow ; 
But  blessings  on  your  frosty  pow, 
John  Anderson  my  jo. 

John  Anderson  my  jo,  John,  5 

We  clamb  the  hill  thegither, 

And  mony  a  canty  day,  John, 

We  've  had  wi'  ane  anither : 

Now  we  maun  totter  down,  John, 

But  hand  in  hand  we  '11  go,  10 

And  sleep  thegither  at  the  foot, 

John  Anderson  my  jo. 

R.  Bums 

CXCVIII 
THE  LAND  O'  THE  LEAL 

I  'm  wearing  awa',  Jean, 

Like  snaw  when  its  thaw,  Jean, 

I  'm  wearing  awa'  1 5 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 
There 's  nae  sorrow  there,  Jean, 
There  's  neither  cauld  nor  care,  Jean, 
The  day  is  aye  fair 

In  the  land  o'  the  leal.  20 

Ye  were  aye  leal  and  true,  Jean, 
Your  task 's  ended  noo,  Jean, 
And  I  '11  welcome  you 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 

Our  bonnie  bairn  's  there,  Jean,  25 

She  was  baith  guid  and  fair,  Jean ; 
O  we  grudged  her  right  sair 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal ! 

Then  dry  that  tearfu'  e'e,  Jean, 

My  soul  langs  to  be  free,  Jean,  30 


200  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  angels  wait  on  me 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 
Now  fare  ye  weel,  my  ain  Jean, 
This  warld's  care  is  vain,  Jean ; 
We  '11  meet  and  aye  be  fain  5 

In  the  land  o'  the  leal ! 

Lady  Nairne 
CXCIX 

ODE  ON  A  DISTANT  PROSPECT  OF  ETON  COLLEGE 

Ye  distant  spires,  ye  antique  towers 

That  crown  the  watery  glade, 
Where  grateful  Science  still  adores 

Her  Henry's  holy  shade ;  10 

And  ye,  that  from  the  stately  brow 
Of  Windsor's  heights  th'  expanse  below 
Of  grove,  of  lawn,  of  mead  survey, 
Whose  turf,  whose  shade,  whose  flowers  among 
Wanders  the  hoary  Thames  along  1 5 

His  silver-winding  way : 

Ah  happy  hills  !  ah  pleasing  shade ! 

Ah  fields  beloved  in  vain ! 
Where  once  my  careless  childhood  stray'd, 

A  stranger  yet  to  pain !  20 

I  feel  the  gales  that  from  ye  blow 
A  momentary  bliss  bestow, 
As  waving  fresh  their  gladsome  wing 
My  weary  soul  they  seem  to  soothe, 
And,  redolent  of  joy  and  youth,  25 

To  breathe  a  second  spring. 

Say,  Father  Thames,  for  thou  hast  seen 

Full  many  a  sprightly  race 
Disporting  on  thy  margent  green 

The  paths  of  pleasure  trace ;  30 

Who  foremost  now  delight  to  cleave 
With  pliant  arm,  thy  glassy  wave  ? 


BOOK  THIRD  201 

The  captive  linnet  which  enthrall  ? 
What  idle  progeny  succeed 
To  chase  the  rolling  circle's  speed 
Or  urge  the  flying  ball  ? 

While  some  on  earnest  business  bent  5 

Their  murmuring  labors  ply 
'Gainst  graver  hours  that  bring  constraint 

To  sweeten  liberty : 
Some  bold  adventurers  disdain 

The  limits  of  their  little  reign  10 

And  unknown  regions  dare  descry : 
Still  as  they  run  they  look  behind, 
They  hear  a  voice  in  every  wind, 

And  snatch  a  fearful  joy. 

Gay  hope  is  theirs  by  fancy  fed,  15 

Less  pleasing  when  possest ; 
The  tear  forgot  as  soon  as  shed, 

The  sunshine  of  the  breast : 
Theirs  buxom  health,  of  rosy  hue, 
Wild  wit,  invention  ever  new,  20 

And  lively  cheer,  of  vigor  born  ; 
The  thoughtless  day,  the  easy  night, 
The  spirits  pure,  the  slumbers  light 

That  fly  th'  approach  of  morn. 

Alas !  regardless  of  their  doom  25 

The  little  victims  play ; 
No  sense  have  they  of  ills  to  come 

Nor  care  beyond  to-day : 
Yet  see  how  all  around  'em  wait 
The  ministers  of  human  fate  30 

And  black  Misfortune's  baleful  train  ! 
Ah  show  them  where  in  ambush  stand 
To  seize  their  prey,  the  murderous  band ! 

Ah,  tell  them  they  are  men ! 


202  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

These  shall  the  fury  Passions  tear, 

The  vultures  of  the  mind, 
Disdainful  Anger,  pallid  Fear, 

And  Shame  that  skulks  behind ; 
Or  pining  Love  shall  waste  their  youth,  5 

Or  Jealousy  with  rankling  tooth 
That  inly  gnaws  the  secret  heart, 
And  Envy  wan,  and  faded  Care, 
Grim-visaged  comfortless  Despair, 

And  Sorrow's  piercing  dart.  10 

Ambition  this  shall  tempt  to  rise, 

Then  whirl  the  wretch  from  high 
To  bitter  Scorn  a  sacrifice 

And  grinning  Infamy. 

The  stings  of  Falsehood  those  shall  try  15 

And  hard  Unkindness'  alter'd  eye, 
That  mocks  the  tear  it  forced  to  flow ; 
And  keen  Remorse  with  blood  defiled, 
And  moody  Madness  laughing  wild 

Amid  severest  woe.  20 

Lo,  in  the  vale  of  years  beneath 

A  grisly  troop  are  seen, 
The  painful  family  of  Death, 

More  hideous  than  their  queen : 

This  racks  the  joints,  this  fires  the  veinsv  25 

That  every  laboring  sinew  strains, 
Those  in  the  deeper  vitals  rage : 
Lo  !  Poverty,  to  fill  the  band, 
That  numbs  the  soul  with  icy  hand, 

And  slow-consuming  Age.  30 

To  each  his  sufferings :  all  are  men, 

Condemn'd  alike  to  groan ; 
The  tender  for  another's  pain, 

Th'  unfeeling  for  his  own. 


BOOK  THIRD  203 

Yet,  ah !  why  should  they  know  their  fate, 
Since  sorrow  never  comes  too  late, 
And  happiness  too  swiftly  flies  ? 
Thought  would  destroy  their  paradise. 
No  more  ;  —  where  ignorance  is  bliss,  5 

JT  is  folly  to  be  wise. 

71  Gray 
CC 

THE  SHRUBBERY 

O  happy  shades !  to  me  unblest ! 

Friendly  to  peace,  but  not  to  me ! 
How  ill  the  scene  that  offers  rest, 

And  heart  that  cannot  rest,  agree !  10 

This  glassy  stream,  that  spreading  pine, 

Those  alders  quivering  to  the  breeze, 
Might  soothe  a  soul  less  hurt  than  mine, 

And  please,  if  anything  could  please. 

But  fix'd  unalterable  Care  15 

Foregoes  not  what  she  feels  within, 
Shows  the  same  sadness  everywhere, 

And  slights  the  season  and  the  scene. 

For  all  that  pleased  in  wood  or  lawn 

While  Peace  possessed  these  silent  bowers,  20 

Her  animating  smile  withdrawn, 

Has  lost  its  beauties  and  its  powers. 

The  saint  or  moralist  should  tread 

This  moss-grown  alley,  musing,  slow, 
They  seek  like  me  the  secret  shade,  25 

But  not,  like  me,  to  nourish  woe ! 

Me,  fruitful  scenes  and  prospects  waste 

Alike  admonish  not  to  roam  ; 
These  tell  me  of  enjoyments  past, 

And  tho'se  of  sorrows  yet  to  come.  30 

W.  Cowper 


204  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

cci 
HYMN  TO  ADVERSITY 

Daughter  of  Jove,  relentless  power, 

Thou  tamer  of  the  human  breast, 
Whose  iron  scourge  and  torturing  hour 

The  bad  affright,  afflict  the  best ! 
Bound  in  thy  adamantine  chain  5 

The  proud  are  taught  to  taste  of  pain, 
And  purple  tyrants  vainly  groan 
With  pangs  unfelt  before,  unpitied  and  alone. 

When  first  thy  Sire  to  send  on  earth 

Virtue,  his  darling  child,  design'd,  10 

To  thee  he  gave  the  heavenly  birth 
And  bade  to  form  her  infant  mind. 

Stern,  rugged  nurse  ;  thy  rigid  lore 

With  patience  many  a  year  she  bore  ; 

What  sorrow  was,  thou  bad'st  her  know,  1 5 

And  from  her  own  she  learn'd  to  melt  at  others'  woe. 

Scared  at  thy  frown  terrific,  fly 

Self-pleasing  Folly's  idle  brood, 
Wild  Laughter,  Noise,  and  thoughtless  Joy, 

And  leave  us  leisure  to  be  good.  20 

Light  they  disperse,  and  with  them  go 
The  summer  friend,  the  flattering  foe ; 
By  vain  Prosperity  received, 
To  her  they  vow  their  truth,  and  are  again  believed. 

Wisdom  in  sable  garb  array 'd  23 

Immersed  in  rapturous  thought  profound, 

And  Melancholy,  silent  maid, 

With  leaden  eye,  that  loves  the  ground, 

Still  on  thy  solemn  steps  attend : 

Warm  Charity,  the  general  friend,  3° 

With  Justice,  to  herself  severe, 
And  Pity  dropping  soft  the  sadly-pleasing  tear. 


BOOK  THIRD  205 

Oh  !  gently  on  thy  suppliant's  head 

Dread  goddess,  lay  thy  chastening  hand  ! 

Not  in  thy  Gorgon  terrors  clad, 
Nor  circled  with  the  vengeful  band 

(As  by  the  impious  thou  art  seen)  5 

With  thundering  voice,  and  threatening  mien, 

With  screaming  Horror's  funeral  cry, 
Despair,  and  fell  Disease,  and  ghastly  Poverty;  — 

Thy  form  benign,  oh  goddess,  wear, 

Thy  milder  influence  impart,  10 

Thy  philosophic  train  be  there 

To  soften,  not  to  wound  my  heart. 
The  generous  spark  extinct  revive, 
Teach  me  to  love  and  to  forgive, 

Exact  my  own  defects  to  scan,  15 

What  others  are  to  feel,  and  know  myself  a  Man. 

T.  Gray 

ecu 

THE  SOLITUDE  OF  ALEXANDER  SELKIRK 
I  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey ; 
My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute ; 
From  the  center  all  round  to  the  sea 
I  am  lord  of  the  fowl  and  the  brute.  20 

0  Solitude !  where  are  the  charms 
That  sages  have  seen  in  thy  face  ? 
Better  dwell  in  the  midst  of  alarms, 
Than  reign  in  this  horrible  place. 

1  am  out  of  humanity's  reach,  25 
I  must  finish  my  journey  alone, 

Never  hear  the  sweet  music  of  speech ; 

I  start  at  the  sound  of  my  own. 

The  beasts  that  roam  over  the  plain 

My  form  with  indifference  see  ;  3° 

They  are  so  unacquainted  with  man, 

Their  tameness  is  shocking  to  me. 


206  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Society,  Friendship,  and  Love 

Divinely  bestow'd  upon  man, 

Oh,  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove 

How  soon  would  I  taste  you  again  ! 

My  sorrows  I  then  might  assuage  5 

In  the  ways  of  religion  and  truth, 

Might  learn  from  the  wisdom  of  age, 

And  be  cheer'd  by  the  sallies  of  youth. 

Ye  winds  that  have  made  me  your  sport, 

Convey  to  this  desolate  shore  10 

Some  cordial  endearing  report 

Of  a  land  I  shall  visit  no  more : 

My  friends,  do  they  now  and  then  send 

A  wish  or  a  thought  after  me  ? 

O  tell  me  I  yet  have  a  friend,  1 5 

Though  a  friend  I  am  never  to  see. 

How  fleet  is  a  glance  of  the  mind ! 

Compared  with  the  speed  of  its  flight, 

The  tempest  itself  lags  behind, 

And  the  swift-winged  arrows  of  light.  20 

When  I  think  of  my  own  native  land 

In  a  moment  I  seem  to  be  there ; 

But  alas  !  recollection  at  hand 

Soon  hurries  me  back  to  despair. 

But  the  sea-fowl  is  gone  to  her  nest,  25 

The  beast  is  laid  down  in  his  lair ; 

Even  here  is  a  season  of  rest, 

And  I  to  my  cabin  repair. 

There 's  mercy  in  every  place, 

And  mercy,  encouraging  thought !  30 

Gives  even  affliction  a  grace 

And  reconciles  man  to  his  lot. 

W.  Cowper 


BOOK  THIRD  207 

ecu  i 
TO  MARY  UNWIN 

Mary  !  I  want  a  lyre  with  other  strings, 

Such  aid  from  Heaven  as  some  have  feign'd  they  drew, 

An  eloquence  scarce  given  to  mortals,  new 

And  undebased  by  praise  of  meaner  things, 

That  ere  through  age  or  woe  I  shed  my  wings  5 

I  may  record  thy  worth  with  honor  due, 
In  verse  as  musical  as  thou  art  true, 
And  that  immortalizes  whom  it  sings :  — 

But  thou  hast  little  need.     There  is  a  Book 

By  seraphs  writ  with  beams  of  heavenly  light,  10 

On  which  the  eyes  of  God  not  rarely  look, 

A  chronicle  of  actions  just  and  bright  — 

There  all  thy  deeds,  my  faithful  Mary,  shine ; 

And  since  thou  own'st  that  praise,  I  spare  thee  mine. 

W.  Cowper 

CCIV 
TO  THE  SAME 

The  twentieth  year  is  well-nigh  past  15 

Since  first  our  sky  was  overcast ; 
Ah  would  that  this  might  be  the  last ! 
My  Mary ! 

Thy  spirits  have  a  fainter  flow, 

I  see  thee  daily  weaker  grow  —  20 

'T  was  my  distress  that  brought  thee  low, 
My  Mary ! 

Thy  needles,  once  a  shining  store, 
For  my  sake  restless  heretofore, 
Now  rust  disused,  and  shine  no  more ;  25 

My  Mary ! 


*o8  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

For  though  thou  gladly  wouldst  fulfill 
The  same  kind  office  for  me  still, 
Thy  sight  now  seconds  not  thy  will, 
My  Mary ! 

But  well  thou  play'st  the  housewife's  part,  5 

And  all  thy  threads  with  magic  art 
Have  wound  themselves  about  this  heart, 
My  Mary ! 

Thy  indistinct  expressions  seem 

Like  language  utter' d  in  a  dream  ;  10 

Yet  me  they  charm,  whate'er  the  theme, 
My  Mary! 

Thy  silver  locks,  once  auburn  bright, 
Are  still  more  lovely  in  my  sight 
Than  golden  beams  of  orient  light,  15 

My  Mary ! 

For  could  I  view  nor  them  nor  thee, 
What  sight  worth  seeing  could  I  see  ? 
The  sun  would  rise  in  vain  for  me, 

My  Mary !  20 

Partakers  of  thy  sad  decline 
Thy  hands  their  little  force  resign ; 
Yet,  gently  pressed,  press  gently  mine, 
My  Mary ! 

Such  feebleness  of  limbs  thou  prov'st  25 

That  now  at  every  step  thou  mov'st 
Upheld  by  two ;  yet  still  thou  lov'st, 
My  Mary ! 

And  still  to  love,  though  pressed  with  ill, 
In  wintry  age  to  feel  no  chill,  30 

With  me  is  to  be  lovely  still, 
My  Mary! 


BOOK  THIRD  209 

But  ah !  by  constant  heed  I  know 
How  oft  the  sadness  that  I  show 
Transforms  thy  smiles  to  looks  of  woe, 
My  Mary  ! 

And  should  my  future  lot  be  cast  5 

With  much  resemblance  of  the  past, 
Thy  worn-out  heart  will  break  at  last  — 
My  Mary ! 

W.  Cowper 

ccv 
THE  CASTAWAY 

Obscurest  night  involved  the  sky, 

The  Atlantic  billows  roar'd,  10 

When  such  a  destined  wretch  as  I, 

Wash'd  headlong  from  on  board, 
Of  friends,  of  hope,  of  all  bereft, 
His  floating  home  forever  left. 

No  braver  chief  could  Albion  boast  15 

Than  he  with  whom  he  went, 
Nor  ever  ship  left  Albion's  coast 

With  warmer  wishes  sent. 
He  loved  them  both,  but  both  in  vain, 
Nor  him  beheld,  nor  her  again.  20 

Not  long  beneath  the  whelming  brine, 

Expert  to  swim,  he  lay ; 
Nor  soon  he  felt  his  strength  decline, 

Or  courage  die  away ; 

But  waged  with  death  a  lasting  strife,  25 

Supported  by  despair  of  life. 

He  shouted :  nor  his  friends  had  fail'd 

To  check  the  vessel's  course, 
But  so  the  furious  blast  prevail'd, 

That,  pitiless  perforce,  30 


210  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

They  left  their  outcast  mate  behind, 
And  scudded  still  before  the  wind. 

Some  succor  yet  they  could  afford ; 

And  such  as  storms  allow, 
The  cask,  the  coop,  the  floated  cord,  5 

Delay'd  not  to  bestow. 
But  he  (they  knew)  nor  ship  nor  shore, 
Whate'er  they  gave,  should  visit  more. 

Nor,  cruel  as  it  seem'd,  could  he 

Their  haste  himself  condemn,  10 

Aware  that  flight,  in  such  a  sea, 

Alone  could  rescue  them ; 
Yet  bitter  felt  it  still  to  die 
Deserted,  and  his  friends  so  nigh. 

He  long  survives,  who  lives  an  hour  15 

In  ocean,  self -upheld ; 
And  so  long  he,  with  unspent  power, 

His  destiny  repell'd ; 
And  ever,  as  the  minutes  flew, 
Entreated  help,  or  cried  "  Adieu  !  "  20 

At  length,  his  transient  respite  past, 

His  comrades,  who  before 
Had  heard  his  voice  in  every  blast, 

Could  catch  the  sound  no  more ; 
For  then,  by  toil  subdued,  he  drank  25 

The  stifling  wave,  and  then  he  sank. 

No  poet  wept  him  ;  but  the  page 

Of  narrative  sincere, 
That  tells  his  name,  his  worth,  his  age, 

Is  wet  with  Anson's  tear :  30 

And  tears  by  bards  or  heroes  shed 
Alike  immortalize  the  dead. 

I  therefore  purpose  not,  or  dream, 
Descanting  on  his  fate, 


BOOK  THIRD  211 

To  give  the  melancholy  theme 

A  more  enduring  date  : 
But  misery  still  delights  to  trace 
Its  semblance  in  another's  case. 

No  voice  divine  the  storm  allay'd,  5 

No  light  propitious  shone, 
When,  snatch'd  from  all  effectual  aid, 

We  perish'd,  each  alone : 
But  I  beneath  a  rougher  sea, 

And  whelrn'd  in  deeper  gulfs  than  he.  10 

W.  Cowper 

CCVI 
TO-MORROW 

In  the  downhill  of  life,  when  I  find  I  'm  declining, 

May  my  fate  no  less  fortunate  be 
Than  a  snug  elbow  chair  will  afford  for  reclining, 

And  a  cot  that  overlooks  the  wide  sea ; 
With  an  ambling  pad-pony  to  pace  o'er  the  lawn,  1 5 

While  I  carol  away  idle  sorrow, 
And  blithe  as  the  lark  that  each  day  hails  the  dawn 

Look  forward  with  hope  for  To-morrow. 

With  a  porch  at  my  door,  both  for  shelter  and  shade  too, 

As  the  sunshine  or  rain  may  prevail ;  20 

And  a  small  spot  of  ground  for  the  use  of  the  spade  too, 

With  a  barn  for  the  use  of  the  flail : 
A  cow  for  my  dairy,  a  dog  for  my  game, 

And  a  purse  when  a  friend  wants  to  borrow ; 
I  '11  envy  no  Nabob  his  riches  or  fame,  25 

Or  what  honors  may  wait  him  To-morrow. 

From  the  bleak  northern  blast  may  my  cot  be  completely 

Secured  by  a  neighboring  hill ; 
And  at  night  may  repose  steal  upon  me  more  sweetly 

By  the  sound  of  a  murmuring  rill :  30 


212  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  while  peace  and  plenty  I  find  at  my  board, 
With  a  heart  free  from  sickness  and  sorrow, 

With  my  friends  may  I  share  what  To-day  may  afford, 
And  let  them  spread  the  table  To-morrow. 

And  when  I  at  last  must  throw  off  this  frail  cov'ring 

Which  I  Ve  worn  for  threescore  years  and  ten, 
On  the  brink  of  the  grave  I  '11  not  seek  to  keep  hov'ring, 

Nor  my  thread  wish  to  spin  o'er  again : 
But  my  face  in  the  glass  I  '11  serenely  survey, 

And  with  smiles  count  each  wrinkle  and  furrow ; 
As  this  old  worn-out  stuff,  which  is  threadbare  To-day, 

May  become  Everlasting  To-morrow. 

/.  Collins 

ccvu 

Life !  I  know  not  what  thou  art, 
But  know  that  thou  and  I  must  part ; 
And  when,  or  how,  or  where  we  met 
I  own  to  me 's  a  secret  yet. 

Life !  we  Ve  been  long  together 
Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather ; 
'T  is  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear  — 
Perhaps  't  will  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear ; 
—  Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 
Choose  thine  own  time ; 

Say  not  Good  Night, —  but  in  some  brighter  clime 
Bid  me  ,Good  Morning. 

A.  L.  Barbauld   / 


BOOK  FOURTH 


It  proves  sufficiently  the  lavish  wealth  of  our  own  age  in  poetry,  that  the 
pieces  which,  without  conscious  departure  from  the  standard  of  excellence,  ren- 
der this  book  by  far  the  longest,  were  with  very  few  exceptions  composed 
during  the  first  thirty  years  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Exhaustive  reasons  can 
hardly  be  given  for  the  strangely  sudden  appearance  of  individual  genius ;  that, 
however,  which  assigns  the  splendid  national  achievements  of  our  recent  poetry 
to  an  impulse  from  the  France  of  the  first  Republic  and  Empire  is  inadequate. 
The  first  French  Revolution  was  rather  one  result  —  the  most  conspicuous,  in- 
deed, yet  itself  in  great  measure  essentially  retrogressive  —  of  that  wider  and 
more  potent  spirit  which  through  inquiry  and  attempt,  through  strength  and 
weakness,  sweeps  mankind  round  the  circles  (not,  as  some  too  confidently  argue, 
of  advance,  but)  of  gradual  transformation  ;  and  it  is  to  this  that  we  must  trace 
the  literature  of  modern  Europe.  But  without  attempting  discussion  on  the 
motive  causes  of  Scott,  Wordsworth,  Shelley,  and  others,  we  may  observe  that 
these  poets  carried  to  further  perfection  the  later  tendencies  of  the  century 
preceding,  in  simplicity  of  narrative,  reverence  for  human  passion  and  character 
in  every  sphere,  and  love  of  nature  for  herself ;  that,  while  maintaining  on  the 
whole  the  advances  in  art  made  since  the  Restoration,  they  renewed  the  half- 
forgotten  melody  and  depth  of  tone  which  marked  the  best  Elizabethan  writers ; 
that,  lastly,  to  what  was  thus  inherited  they  added  a  richness  in  language  and  a 
variety  in  meter,  a  force  and  fire  in  narrative,  a  tenderness  and  bloom  in  feeling, 
an  insight  into  the  finer  passages  of  the  soul  and  the  inner  meanings  of  the 
landscape,  a  larger  sense  of  humanity,  hitherto  scarcely  attained,  and  perhaps 
unattainable  even  by  predecessors  of  not  inferior  individual  genius.  In  a  word, 
the  nation  which,  after  the  Greeks  in  their  glory,  may  fairly  claim  that  during 
six  centuries  it  has  proved  itself  the  most  richly  gifted  of  all  nations  for  poetry, 
expressed  in  these  men  the  highest  strength  and  prodigality  of  its  nature.  They 
interpreted  the  age  to  itself ;  hence  the  many  phases  of  thought  and  style  they 
present .  To  sympathize  with  each  fervently  and  impartially,  without  fear  and 
without  fancifulness,  is  no  doubtful  step  in  the  higher  education  of  the  soul. 
For  purity  in  taste  is  absolutely  proportionate  to  strength,  and  when  once  the 
mind  has  raised  itself  to  grasp  and  to  delight  in  excellence,  those  who  love  most 
will  be  found  to  love  most  wisely. 

But  the  gallery  which  this  book  offers  to  the  reader  will  aid  him  more  than 
any  preface.  It  is  a  royal  palace  of  poetry  which  he  is  invited  to  enter : 

Adparet  domus  intus,  et  atria  longa  patescunt  *  — 
though  it  is,  indeed,  to  the  sympathetic  eye  only  that  its  treasures  will  be  visible. 

1  "  The  interior  of  the  house  appears,  and  the  long  halls  open  out"  (Virgil,  Mneid, 
II,  483). 

213 


214  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCVIII 
TO  THE  MUSES 

Whether  on  Ida's  shady  brow, 

Or  in  the  chambers  of  the  East, 
The  chambers  of  the  sun,  that  now 

From  ancient  melody  have  ceased ; 

Whether  in  Heaven  ye  wander  fair,  5 

Or  the  green  corners  of  the  earth, 
Or  the  blue  regions  of  the  air, 

Where  the  melodious  winds  have  birth ; 

Whether  on  crystal  rocks  ye  rove 

Beneath  the  bosom  of  the  sea,  IQ 

Wandering  in  many  a  coral  grove,  — 

Fair  Nine,  forsaking  Poetry ; 

How  have  you  left  the  ancient  love 

That  bards  of  old  enjoy 'd  in  you ! 
The  languid  strings  do  scarcely  move,  1 5 

The  sound  is  forced,  the  notes  are  few. 

W.  Blak* 

ccix 
ODE  ON  THE  POETS 

Bards  of  Passion  and  of  Mirth, 

Ye  have  left  your  souls  on  earth  ! 

Have  ye  souls  in  heaven  too, 

Double-lived  in  regions  new  ?  20 

—  Yes,  and  those  of  heaven  commune 

With  the  spheres  of  sun  and  moon ; 

With  the  noise  of  fountains  wond'rous 

And  the  parle  of  voices  thund'rous ; 

With  the  whisper  of  heaven's  trees  25 

And  one  another,  in  soft  ease 


BOOK  FOURTH  215 

Seated  on  Elysian  lawns 

Browsed  by  none  but  Dian's  fawns ; 

Underneath  large  bluebells  tented, 

Where  the  daisies  are  rose-scented, 

And  the  rose  herself  has  got  5 

Perfume  which  on  earth  is  not ; 

Where  the  nightingale  doth  sing 

Not  a  senseless,  tranced  thing, 

But  divine  melodious  truth ; 

Philosophic  numbers  smooth ;  10 

Tales  and  golden  histories 

Of  heaven  and  its  mysteries. 

Thus  ye  live  on  high,  and  then 
On  the  earth  ye  live  again ; 

And  the  souls  ye  left  behind  you  1 5 

Teach  us,  here,  the  way  to  find  you, 
Where  your  other  souls  are  joying, 
Never  slumber'd,  never  cloying. 
Here,  your  earthborn  souls  still  speak 
To  mortals,  of  their  little  week ;  20 

Of  their  sorrows  and  delights ; 
Of  their  passions  and  their  spites ; 
Of  their  glory  and  their  shame ; 
What  doth  strengthen  and  what  maim :  — 
Thus  ye  teach  us,  every  day,  25 

Wisdom,  though  fled  far  away. 

Bards  of  Passion  and  of  Mirth 
Ye  have  left  your  souls  on  earth  ! 
Ye  have  souls  in  heaven  too, 

Double-lived  in  regions  new  !  30 

/.  Keats 


216  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

ccx 
ON  FIRST  LOOKING  INTO  CHAPMAN'S  HOMER 

Much  have  I  travel'd  in  the  realms  of  gold 
And  many  goodly  states  and  kingdoms  seen ; 
Round  many  western  islands  have  I  been 
Which  bards  in  fealty  to  Apollo  hold. 

Oft  of  one  wide  expanse  had  I  been  told  5 

That  deep-brow'd  Homer  ruled  as  his  demesne : 
Yet  did  I  never  breathe  its  pure  serene 
Till  I  heard  Chapman  speak  out  loud  and  bold : 

—  Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  of  the  skies 

When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken ;  10 

Or  like  stout  Cortez,  when  with  eagle  eyes 

He  stared  at  the  Pacific  —  and  all  his  men 
Look'd  at  each  other  with  a  wild  surmise  — 
Silent,  upon  a  peak  in  Darien. 

J.  Keats 

CCXI 
LOVE 

All  thoughts,  all  passions,  all  delights,  15 

Whatever  stirs  this  mortal  frame, 
All  are  but  ministers  of  Love, 
And  feed  his  sacred  flame. 

Oft  in  my  waking  dreams  do  I 

Live  o'er  again  that  happy  hour,  20 

When  midway  on  the  mount  I  lay, 
Beside  the  ruin'd  tower. 

The  moonshine  stealing  o'er  the  scene 
Had  blended  with  the  lights  of  eve ; 
And  she  was  there,  my  hope,  my  joy,  25 

My  own  dear  Genevieve  ! 


BOOK  FOURTH  217 

She  lean'd  against  the  arme'd  man, 
The  statue  of  the  arme'd  knight ; 
She  stood  and  listen'd  to  my  lay, 
Amid  the  lingering  light. 

Few  sorrows  hath  she  of  her  own,  5 

My  hope !  my  joy !  my  Genevieve ! 
She  loves  me  best,  whene'er  I  sing 
The  songs  that  make  her  grieve. 

I  play'd  a  soft  and  doleful  air, 

I  sang  an  old  and  moving  story —  10 

An  old  rude  song,  that  suited  well 
That  ruin  wild  and  hoary. 

She  listen'd  with  a  flitting  blush, 
With  downcast  eyes  and  modest  grace ; 
For  well  she  knew,  I  could  not  choose  1 5 

But  gaze  upon  her  face. 

I  told  her  of  the  Knight  that  wore 
Upon  his  shield  a  burning  brand ; 
And  that  for  ten  long  years  he  woo'd 

The  Lady  of  the  Land.  20 

I  told  her  how  he  pined :  and  ah ! 
The  deep,  the  low,  the  pleading  tone 
With  which  I  sang  another's  love 
Interpreted  my  own. 

She  listen'd  with  a  flitting  blush,  25 

With  downcast  eyes,  and  modest  grace ; 
And  she  forgave  me,  that  I  gazed 
Too  fondly  on  her  face  ! 

But  when  I  told  the  cruel  scorn 

That  crazed  that  bold  and  lovely  Knight,  3° 

And  that  he  cross'd  the  mountain  woods, 
Nor  rested  day  nor  night ; 


218  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

That  sometimes  from  the  savage  den, 
And  sometimes  from  the  darksome  shade, 
And  sometimes  starting  up  at  once 
In  green  and  sunny  glade,  — 

There  came  and  look'd  him  in  the  face  5 

An  angel  beautiful  and  bright ; 
And  that  he  knew  it  was  a  Fiend, 
This  miserable  Knight ! 

And  that  unknowing  what  he  did, 
He  leap'd  amid  a  murderous  band,  10 

And  saved  from  outrage  worse  than  death 
The  Lady  of  the  Land  ;  — 

And  how  she  wept,  and  clasp'd  his  knees ; 
And  how  she  tended  him  in  vain  — 
And  ever  strove  to  expiate  15 

The  scorn  that  crazed  his  brain  ;  — 

And  that  she  nursed  him  in  a  cave, 
And  how  his  madness  went  away, 
When  on  the  yellow  forest  leaves 

A  dying  man  he  lay ;  —  20 

His  dying  words  —  but  when  I  reach'd 
That  tenderest  strain  of  all  the  ditty, 
My  faltering  voice  and  pausing  harp 
Disturb'd  her  soul  with  pity  ! 

All  impulses  of  soul  and  sense  25 

Had  thrill'd  my  guileless  Genevieve ; 
The  music  and  the  doleful  tale, 
The  rich  and  balmy  eve  ; 

And  hopes,  and  fears  that  kindle  hope, 

An  undistinguishable  throng,  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  219 

And  gentle  wishes  long  subdued, 
Subdued  and  cherish'd  long ! 

She  wept  with  pity  and  delight, 
She  blush'd  with  love,  and  virgin  shame ; 
And  like  the  murmur  of  a  dream,  5 

I  heard  her  breathe  my  name. 

Her  bosom  heaved  —  she  stepp'd  aside, 
As  conscious  of  my  look  she  stept  — 
Then  suddenly,  with  timorous  eye 

She  fled  to  me  and  wept.  10 

She  half  inclosed  me  with  her  arms, 
She  press'd  me  with  a  meek  embrace ; 
And  bending  back  her  head,  look'd  up, 
And  gazed  upon  my  face. 

'T  was  partly  love,  and  partly  fear,  1 5 

And  partly  't  was  a  bashful  art 
That  I  might  rather  feel,  than  see, 
The  swelling  of  her  heart. 

I  calm'd  her  fears,  and  she  was  calm, 

And  told  her  love  with  virgin  pride ;  20 

And  so  I  won  my  Genevieve, 

My  bright  and  beauteous  Bride. 

S.  T.  Coleridge 

CCXII 
ALL  FOR  LOVE 

O  talk  not  to  me  of  a  name  great  in  story ; 

The  days  of  our  youth  are  the  days  of  our  glory ; 

And  the  myrtle  and  ivy  of  sweet  two-and-twenty  25 

Are  worth  all  your  laurels,  though  ever  so  plenty. 


220  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

What  are  garlands  and  crowns  to  the  brow  that  is  wrinkled  ? 
'T  is  but  as  a  dead  flower  with  May-dew  besprinkled : 
Then  away  with  all  such  from  the  head  that  is  hoary  — 
What  care  I  for  the  wreaths  that  can  only  give  glory  ? 

0  fame !  —  if  I  e'er  took  delight  in  thy  praises,  5 
'T  was  less  for  the  sake  of  thy  high-sounding  phrases, 
Than  to  see  the  bright  eyes  of  the  dear  one  discover 

She  thought  that  I  was  not  unworthy  to  love  her. 

There  chiefly  I  sought  thee,  there  only  I  found  thee ; 

Her  glance  was  the  best  of  the  rays  that  surround  thee ;      10 

When  it  sparkled  o'er  aught  that  was  bright  in  my  story, 

1  knew  it  was  love,  and  I  felt  it  was  glory. 

Lord  Byron 

CCXIII 
THE  OUTLAW 

0  Brignall  banks  are  wild  and  fair, 
And  Greta  woods  are  green, 

And  you  may  gather  garlands  there  1 5 

Would  grace  a  summer  queen. 
And  as  I  rode  by  Dalton-Hall 

Beneath  the  turrets  high, 
A  Maiden  on  the  castle  wall 

Was  singing  merrily :  20 

"  O  Brignall  banks  are  fresh  and  fair, 

And  Greta  woods  are  green ; 

1  'd  rather  rove  with  Edmund  there 

Than  reign  our  English  queen." 

tf  If,  Maiden,  thou  wouldst  wend  with  me,  25 

To  leave  both  tower  and  town, 
Thou  first  must  guess  what  life  lead  we 

That  dwell  by  dale  and  down. 
And  if  thou  canst  that  riddle  read, 

As  read  full  well  you  may,  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  221 

Then  to  the  greenwood  shalt  thou  speed 

As  blithe  as  Queen  of  May." 
Yet  sung  she,  "  Brignall  banks  are  fair, 

And  Greta  woods  are  green ; 
I  'd  rather  rove  with  Edmund  there  5 

Than  reign  our  English  queen. 

"  I  read  you,  by  your  bugle  horn 

And  by  your  palfrey  good, 
I  read  you  for  a  ranger  sworn 

To  keep  the  king's  greenwood."  10 

"  A  Ranger,  lady,  winds  his  horn, 

And  't  is  at  peep  of  light ; 
His  blast  is  heard  at  merry  morn, 

And  mine  at  dead  of  night." 
Yet  sung  she,  "  Brignall  banks  are  fair,  15 

And  Greta  woods  are  gay  ; 
I  would  I  were  with  Edmund  there 

To  reign  his  Queen  of  May ! 

"  With  burnish'd  brand  and  musketoon 

So  gallantly  you  come,  20 

I  read  you  for  a  bold  Dragoon 

That  lists  the  tuck  of  drum." 
"  I  list  no  more  the  tuck  of  drum, 

No  more  the  trumpet  hear ; 
But  when  the  beetle  sounds  his  hum  25 

My  comrades  take  the  spear. 
And  O  !  though  Brignall  banks  be  fair 

And  Greta  woods  be  gay, 
Yet  mickle  must  the  maiden  dare 

Would  reign  my  Queen  of  May !  30 

"  Maiden !  a  nameless  life  I  lead, 

A  nameless  death  I  '11  die ; 
The  fiend  whose  lantern  lights  the  mead 

Were  better  mate  than  I ! 


222  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  when  I  'm  with  my  comrades  met 
Beneath  the  greenwood  bough,  — 

What  once  we  were  we  all  forget, 
Nor  think  what  we  are  now." 

CHORUS 
"  Yet  Brignall  banks  are  fresh  and  fair,  5 

And  Greta  woods  are  green, 
And  you  may  gather  garlands  there 
Would  grace  a  summer  queen." 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCXIV 

There  be  none  of  Beauty's  daughters 

With  a  magic  like  Thee  ;  10 

And  like  music  on  the  waters 
Is  thy  sweet  voice  to  me  : 

When,  as  if  its  sound  were  causing 

The  charmed  ocean's  pausing, 

The  waves  lie  still  and  gleaming,  15 

And  the  lull'd  winds  seem  dreaming : 

And  the  midnight  moon  is  weaving 

Her  bright  chain  o'er  the  deep, 
Whose  breast  is  gently  heaving 

As  an  infant's  asleep  :  20 

So  the  spirit  bows  before  thee 
To  listen  and  adore  thee ; 
With  a  full  but  soft  emotion, 
Like  the  swell  of  Summer's  ocean. 

Lord  Byron 
ccxv 

THE  INDIAN  SERENADE 

I  arise  from  dreams  of  Thee  25 

In  the  first  sweet  sleep  of  night, 
When  the  winds  are  breathing  low 
And  the  stars  are  shining  bright : 


BOOK  FOURTH  223 

I  arise  from  dreams  of  thee, 
And  a  spirit  in  my  feet 
Hath  led  me  —  who  knows  how  ? 
To  thy  chamber  window,  Sweet ! 

The  wandering  airs  they  faint  5 

Op  the  dark,  the  silent  stream  — 

The  champak  odors  fail 

Like  sweet  thoughts  in  a  dream ; 

The  nightingale's  complaint 

It  dies  upon  her  heart,  10 

As  I  must  die  on  thine, 

0  beloved  as  thou  art ! 

Oh  lift  me  from  the  grass  ! 

1  die,  I  faint,  I  fail ! 

Let  thy  Love  in  kisses  rain  15 

On  my  lips  and  eyelids  pale. 
My  cheek  is  cold  and  white,  alas ! 
My  heart  beats  loud  and  fast ; 
Oh  !  press  it  close  to  thine  again 
Where  it  will  break  at  last.  20 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCXVI 

She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 

Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies, 

And  all  that 's  best  of  dark  and  bright 

Meet  in  her  aspect  and  her  eyes ; 

Thus  mellow'd  to  that  tender  light  25 

Which  heaven  to  gaudy  day  denies. 

One  shade  the  more,  one  ray  the  less, 

Had  half  impair'd  the  nameless  grace 

Which  waves  in  every  raven  tress 

Or  softly  lightens  o'er  her  face,  30 

Where  thoughts  serenely  sweet  express 

How  pure,  how  dear  their  dwelling  place. 


224  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  on  that  cheek  and  o'er  that  brow 
So  soft,  so  calm,  yet  eloquent, 
The  smiles  that  win,  the  tints  that  glow 
But  tell  of  days  in  goodness  spent,  — 
A  mind  at  peace  with  all  below,  5 

A  heart  whose  love  is  innocent. 

Lord  Byron 

CCXVII 

She  was  a  Phantom  of  delight 

When  first  she  gleam'd  upon  my  sight ; 

A  lovely  Apparition,  sent 

To  be  a  moment's  ornament;  10 

Her  eyes  as  stars  of  twilight  fair ; 

Like  Twilight's,  too,  her  dusky  hair ; 

But  all  things  else  about  her  drawn 

From  May-time  and  the  cheerful  dawn ; 

A  dancing  shape,  an  image  gay,  15 

To  haunt,  to  startle,  and  waylay. 

I  saw  her  upon  nearer  view, 

A  Spirit,  yet  a  Woman  too ! 

Her  household  motions  light  and  free, 

And  steps  of  virgin-liberty ;  20 

A  countenance  in  which  did  meet 

Sweet  records,  promises  as  sweet ; 

A  creature  not  too  bright  or  good 

For  human  nature's  daily  food, 

For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles,  25 

Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears,  and  smiles. 

And  now  I  see  with  eye  serene 

The  very  pulse  of  the  machine ; 

A  being  breathing  thoughtful  breath, 

A  traveler  between  life  and  death :  3° 

The  reason  firm,  the  temperate  will, 

Endurance,  foresight,  strength,  and  skill ; 


BOOK  FOURTH  225 

A  perfect  Woman,  nobly  plann'd 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command ; 
And  yet  a  Spirit  still,  and  bright 
With  something  of  an  angel  light. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCXVIII 

She  is  not  fair  to  outward  view  5 

As  many  maidens  be ; 
Her  loveliness  I  never  knew 

Until  she  smiled  on  me. 

0  then  I  saw  her  eye  was  bright, 

A  well  of  love,  a  spring  of  light.  10 

But  now  her  looks  are  coy  and  cold, 

To  mine  they  ne'er  reply, 
And  yet  I  cease  not  to  behold 

The  love-light  in  her  eye : 

Her  very  frowns  are  fairer  far  1 5 

Than  smiles  of  other- maidens  are. 

H.  Coleridge 
CCXIX 

1  fear  thy  kisses,  gentle  maiden ; 
Thou  needest  not  fear  mine ; 
My  spirit  is  too  deeply  laden 

Ever  to  burthen  thine.  20 

I  fear  thy  mien,  thy  tones,  thy  motion ; 
Thou  needest  not  fear  mine ; 
Innocent  is  the  heart's  devotion 
With  which  I  worship  thine. 

P.  B.  Shelley 
ccxx 

She  dwelt  among  the  untrodden  ways  25 

Beside  the  springs  of  Dove ; 
A  maid  whom  there  were  none  to  praise, 

And  very  few  to  love. 


226  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

A  violet  by  a  mossy  stone 

Half-hidden  from  the  eye ! 
—  Fair  as  a  star,  when  only  one 

Is  shining  in  the  sky. 

She  lived  unknown,  and  few  could  know  $ 

When  Lucy  ceased  to  be ; 
But  she  is  in  her  grave,  and,  oh, 

The  difference  to  me ! 

IV.  Wordsworth 

ccxxi 

I  traveFd  among  unknown  men 

In  lands  beyond  the  sea ;  10 

Nor,  England !  did  I  know  till  then 

What  love  I  bore  to  thee. 

'T  is  past,  that  melancholy  dream ! 

Nor  will  I  quit  thy  shore 
A  second  time;  for  still  I  seem  15 

To  love  thee  more  and  more. 

Among  thy  mountains  did  I  feel 

The  joy  of  my  desire ; 
And  she  I  cherish'd  turn'd  her  wheel 

Beside  an  English  fire.  20 

Thy  mornings  show'd,  thy  nights  conceal'd 
The  bowers  where  Lucy  play'd ; 

And  thine  too  is  the  last  green  field 
That  Lucy's  eyes  survey'd. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCXXII 
THE  EDUCATION  OF  NATURE 

Three  years  she  grew  in  sun  and  shower;  25 

Then  Nature  said,  "  A  lovelier  flower 
On  earth  was  never  sown : 


BOOK  FOURTH  227 

This  Child  I  to  myself  will  take ; 
She  shall  be  mine,  and  I  will  make 
A  lady  of  my  own. 

"  Myself  will  to  my  darling  be 

Both  law  and  impulse :  and  with  me  5 

The  girl,  in  rock  and  plain, 

In  earth  and  heaven,  in  glade  and  bower, 

Shall  feel  an  overseeing  power 

To  kindle  or  restrain. 

"  She  shall  be  sportive  as  the  fawn  10 

That  wild  with  glee  across  the  lawn 

Or  up  the  mountain  springs ; 

And  her's  shall  be  the  breathing  balm, 

And  her's  the  silence  and  the  calm 

Of  mute  insensate  things.  15 

"  The  floating  clouds  their  state  shall  lend 

To  her ;  for  her  the  willow  bend  ; 

Nor  shall  she  fail  to  see 

Ev'n  in  the  motions  of  the  storm 

Grace  that  shall  mold  the  maiden's  form  20 

By  silent  sympathy. 

"  The  stars  of  midnight  shall  be  dear 

To  her ;   and  she  shall  lean  her  ear 

In  many  a  secret  place 

Where  rivulets  dance  their  wayward  round,  25 

And  beauty  born  of  murmuring  sound 

Shall  pass  into  her  face. 

11  And  vital  feelings  of  delight 

Shall  rear  her  form  to  stately  height, 

Her  virgin  bosom  swell ;  30 

Such  thoughts  to  Lucy  I  will  give 

While  she  and  I  together  live 

Here  in  this  happy  dell.7' 


228  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Thus  Nature  spake  —  The  work  was  done  — > 

How  soon  my  Lucy's  race  was  run ! 

She  died,  and  left  to  me 

This  heath,  this  calm  and  quiet  scene ; 

The  memory  of  what  has  been,  5 

And  never  more  will  be. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCXXIII 

A  slumber  did  my  spirit  seal ; 

I  had  no  human  fears : 
She  seem'd  a  thing  that  could  not  feel 

The  touch  of  earthly  years.  10 

No  motion  has  she  now,  no  force ; 

She  neither  hears  nor  sees ; 
Roll'd  round  in  earth's  diurnal  course 

With  rocks,  and  stones,  and  trees. 

W.  Wordsworth 

ccxxiv 
A  LOST  LOVE 

I  meet  thy  pensive,  moonlight  face ;  15 

Thy  thrilling  voice  I  hear ; 
And  former  hours  and  scenes  retrace, 

Too  fleeting,  and  too  dear ! 

Then  sighs  and  tears  flow  fast  and  free, 

Though  none  is  nigh  to  share ;  20 

And  life  has  naught  beside  for  me 
So  sweet  as  this  despair. 

There  are  crush'd  hearts  that  will  not  break; 

And  mine,  methinks,  is  one ; 
Or  thus  I  should  not  weep  and  wake,  25 

And  thou  to  slumber  gone. 


BOOK  FOURTH  229 

I  little  thought  it  thus  could  be 

In  days  more  sad  and  fair  — 
That  earth  could  have  a  place  for  me, 
And  thou  no  longer  there. 

Yet  death  cannot  our  hearts  divide,  5 

Or  make  thee  less  my  own : 
'T  were  sweeter  sleeping  at  thy  side 

Than  watching  here  alone. 

Yet  never,  never  can  we  part, 

While  Memory  holds  her  reign :  10 

Thine,  thine  is  still  this  wither'd  heart, 

Till  we  shall  meet  again. 

ff.  F.  Lyte 

ccxxv 
LORD  ULLIN'S  DAUGHTER 

A  Chieftain  to  the  Highlands  bound 

Cries  "  Boatman,  do  not  tarry ! 

And  I  '11  give  thee  a  silver  pound  15 

To  row  us  o'er  the  ferry  ! " 

"Now  who  be  ye,  would  cross  Lochgyle, 
This  dark  and  stormy  water  ?  " 

II  O  I  'm  the  chief  of  Ulva's  isle, 

And  this,  Lord  Ullin's  daughter.  20 

"  And  fast  before  her  father's  men 
Three  days  we  've  fled  together, 
For  should  he  find  us  in  the  glen, 
My  blood  would  stain  the  heather. 

"  His  horsemen  hard  behind  us  ride —  25 

Should  they  our  steps  discover, 
Then  who  will  cheer  my  bonny  bride, 
When  they  have  slain  her  lover  ?  " 


230  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Out  spoke  the  hardy  Highland  wight, 
"  I  '11  go,  my  chief,  I  'm  ready : 
It  is  not  for  your  silver  bright, 
But  for  your  winsome  lady :  — 

11  And  by  my  word !  the  bonny  bird  5 

In  danger  shall  not  tarry ; 

So  though  the  waves  are  raging  white 

I  '11  row  you  o'er  the  ferry." 

By  this  the  storm  grew  loud  apace, 

The  water-wraith  was  shrieking ;  10 

And  in  the  scowl  of  Heaven  each  face 

Grew  dark  as  they  were  speaking. 

But  still  as  wilder  blew  the  wind, 

And  as  the  night  grew  drearer, 

Adown  the  glen  rode  arme'd  men,  15 

Their  trampling  sounded  nearer. 

"  O  haste  thee,  haste !  "  the  lady  cries, 

"  Though  tempests  round  us  gather ; 

I  '11  meet  the  raging  of  the  skies, 

But  not  an  angry  father."  20 

The  boat  has  left  a  stormy  land, 

A  stormy  sea  before  her,  — 

When,  oh  !  too  strong  for  human  hand 

The  tempest  gather'd  o'er  her. 

And  still  they  row'd  amidst  the  roar  25 

Of  waters  fast  prevailing : 

Lord  Ullin  reach'd  that  fatal  shore,  — 

His  wrath  was  changed  to  wailing. 

For,  sore  dismay'd,  through  storm  and  shade 

His  child  he  did  discover ;  —  30 

One  lovely  hand  she  stretch'd  for  aid, 

And  one  was  round  her  lover. 


BOOK  FOURTH  231 

"  Come  back  !  come  back  !  "  he  cried  in  grief 
"  Across  this  stormy  water : 
And  I  '11  forgive  your  Highland  chief, 
My  daughter !  —  Oh,  my'  daughter  !  " 

'T  was  vain :  the  loud  waves  lash'd  the  shore,  5 

Return  or  aid  preventing : 

The  waters  wild  went  o'er  his  child, 

And  he  was  left  lamenting. 

T,  Campbell 

CCXXVI 

LUCY  GRAY 

Oft  I  had  heard  of  Lucy  Gray : 

And  when  I  cross'd  the  wild,  10 

I  chanced  to  see  at  break  of  day 

The  solitary  child. 

No  mate,  no  comrade  Lucy  knew ; 

She  dwelt  on  a  wide  moor, 

The  sweetest  thing  that  ever  grew  15 

Beside  a  human  door ! 

You  yet  may  spy  the  fawn  at  play, 

The  hare  upon  the  green ; 

But  the  sweet  face  of  Lucy  Gray 

Will  never  more  be  seen.  20 

"  To-night  will  be  a  stormy  night  — 
You  to  the  town  must  go ; 
And  take  a  lantern,  Child,  to  light 
Your  mother  through  the  snow. " 

"  That,  Father  !  will  I  gladly  do :  25 

T  is  scarcely  afternoon  — 

The  minster  clock  has  just  struck  two, 

And  yonder  is  the  moon  !  " 


232  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

At  this  the  father  raised  his  hook, 
And  snapp'd  a  fagot  band ; 
He  plied  his  work  ;  —  and  Lucy  took 
The  lantern  in  her  hand. 

Not  blither  is  the  mountain  roe :  5 

With  many  a  wanton  stroke 

Her  feet  disperse  the  powdery  snow, 

That  rises  up  like  smoke. 

The  storm  came  on  before  its  time . 

She  wander 'd  up  and  down ;  10 

And  many  a  hill  did  Lucy  climb : 

But  never  reach'd  the  town. 

The  wretched  parents  all  that  night 

Went  shouting  far  and  wide ; 

But  there  was  neither  sound  nor  sight  15 

To  serve  them  for  a  guide. 

At  daybreak  on  a  hill  they  stood 

That  overlooked  the  moor ; 

And  thence  they  saw  the  bridge  of  wood 

A  furlong  from  their  door.  20 

They  wept  —  and,  turning  homeward,  cried 
"In  heaven  we  all  shall  meet !  " 
—  When  in  the  snow  the  mother  spied 
The  print  of  Lucy's  feet. 

Then  downwards  from  .the  steep  hill's  edge  25 

They  track'd  the  footmarks  small ; 

And  through  the  broken  hawthorn  hedge, 

And  by  the  long  stonewall : 

And  then  an  open  field  they  cross'd : 

The  marks  were  still  the  same ;  30 

They  track'd  them  on,  nor  ever  lost ; 

And  to  the  bridge  they  came ; 


BOOK  FOURTH  233 

They  follow'd  from  the  snowy  bank 
Those  footmarks,  one  by  one, 
Into  the  middle  of  the  plank ; 
And  further  there  were  none  ! 

—  Yet  some  maintain  that  to  this  day  5 

She  is  a  living  child ; 

That  you  may  see  sweet  Lucy  Gray 

Upon  the  lonesome  wild. 

O'er  rough  and  smooth  she  trips  along, 

And  never  looks  behind ;  10 

And  sings  a  solitary  song 

That  whistles  in  the  wind. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCXXVII 
JOCK  OF  HAZELDEAN 

w  Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  ladie  ? 

Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide  ? 
I  '11  wed  ye  to  my  youngest  son,  15 

And  ye  sail  be  his  bride : 
And  ye  sail  be  his  bride,  ladie, 

Sae  comely  to  be  seen"  — 
But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa' 

For  Jock  of  Hazeldean.  20 

"  Now  let  this  wilfu'  grief  be  done, 

And  dry  that  cheek  so  pale ; 
Young  Frank  is  chief  of  Errington 

And  lord  of  Langley-dale ; 
His  step  is  first  in  peaceful  ha',  25 

His  sword  in  battle  keen  "  — 
But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa' 

For  Jock  of  Hazeldean. 

w  A  chain  of  gold  ye  sail  not  lack, 

Nor  braid  to  bind  your  hair,  30 


234  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Nor  mettled  hound,  nor  managed  hawk, 

Nor  palfrey  fresh  and  fair ; 
And  you  the  foremost  o'  them  a' 

Shall  ride  our  forest  queen  "  — 
But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa'  5 

For  Jock  of  Hazeldean. 

The  kirk  was  deck'd  at  morning-tide, 

The  tapers  glimmer'd  fair ; 
The  priest  and  bridegroom  wait  the  bride, 

And  dame  and  knight  are  there :  10 

They  sought  her  baith  by  bower  and  ha' ; 

The  ladie  was  not  seen  ! 
She  's  o'er  the  border,  and  awa' 

Wi'  Jock  of  Hazeldean. 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCXXVIII 
LOVE'S  PHILOSOPHY 

The  fountains  mingle  with  the  river  15 

And  the  rivers  with  the  ocean, 

The  winds  of  heaven  mix  forever 

With  a  sweet  emotion ; 

Nothing  in  the  world  is  single, 

All  things  by  a  law  divine  20 

In  one  another's  being  mingle  — 

Why  not  I  with  thine? 

See  the  mountains  kiss  high  heaven, 
And  the  waves  clasp  one  another ; 
No  sister  flower  would  be  forgiven  25 

If  it  disdain'd  its  brother : 
And  the  sunlight  clasps  the  earth, 
And  the  moonbeams  kiss  the  sea  — 
What  are  all  these  kissings  worth, 
If  thou  kiss  not  me  ?  3° 

P.  B.  Shelley 


BOOK  FOURTH  235 

ccxxix 
ECHOES 

How  sweet  the  answer  Echo  makes 

To  Music  at  night 

When,  roused  by  lute  or  horn,  she  wakes, 

And  far  away  o'er  lawns  and  lakes 

Goes  answering  light !  5 

Yet  Love  hath  echoes  truer  far 

And  far  more  sweet 

Than  e'er,  beneath  the  moonlight's  star, 

Of  horn  or  lute  or  soft  guitar 

The  songs  repeat.  10 

'T  is  when  the  sigh,  —  in  youth  sincere 
And  only  then, 

The  sigh  that 's  breathed  for  one  to  hear  — 
Is  by  that  one,  that  only  Dear 

Breathed  back  again.  15 

T.  Moore 

CCXXX 
A  SERENADE 

Ah !  County  Guy,  the  hour  is  nigh, 

The  sun  has  left  the  lea, 
The  orange  flower  perfumes  the  bower, 

The  breeze  is  on  the  sea. 
The  lark,  his  lay  who  thrill'd  all  day,  20 

Sits  hush'd  his  partner  nigh ; 
Breeze,  bird,  and  flower  confess  the  hour, 

But  where  is  County  Guy  ? 

The  village  maid  steals  through  the  shade 

Her  shepherd's  suit  to  hear ;  25 

To  Beauty  shy,  by  lattice  high, 
Sings  highborn  Cavalier. 


236  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  star  of  Love,  all  stars  above, 

Now  reigns  o'er  earth  and  sky, 
And  high  and  low  the  influence  know  — - 

But  where  is  County  Guy  ? 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCXXXI 
TO  THE  EVENING  STAR 

Gem  of  the  crimson-color'd  Even,  5 

Companion  of  retiring  day, 

Why  at  the  closing  gates  of  heaven, 

Beloved  Star,  dost  thou  delay  ? 

So  fair  thy  pensile  beauty  burns 

When  soft  the  tear  of  twilight  flows ;  10 

So  due  thy  plighted  love  returns 

To  chambers  brighter  than  the  rose ; 

To  Peace,  to  Pleasure,  and  to  Love 

So  kind  a  star  thou  seem'st  to  be, 

Sure  some  enamor'd  orb  above  15 

Descends  and  burns  to  meet  with  thee. 

Thine  is  the  breathing,  blushing  hour 

When  all  unheavenly  passions  fly, 

Chased  by  the  soul-subduing  power 

Of  Love's  delicious  witchery.  20 

O  !  sacred  to  the  fall  of  day 
Queen  of  propitious  stars,  appear, 
And  early  rise,  and  long  delay, 
When  Caroline  herself  is  here ! 

Shine  on  her  chosen  green  resort  25 

Whose  trees  the  sunward  summit  crown, 
And  wanton  flowers,  that  well  may  court 
An  angel's  feet  to  tread  them  down :  — 


BOOK  FOURTH  237 

Shine  on  her  sweetly  scented  road 
Thou  star  of  evening's  purple  dome, 
That  lead'st  the  nightingale  abroad, 
And  guid'st  the  pilgrim  to  his  home. 

Shine  where  my  charmer's  sweeter  breath  5 

Embalms  the  soft  exhaling  dew, 
Where  dying  winds  a  sigh  bequeath 
To  kiss  the  cheek  of  rosy  hue :  — 

Where,  winnow'd  by  the  gentle  air, 

Her  silken  tresses  darkly  flow  10 

And  fall  upon  her  brow  so  fair, 

Like  shadows  on  the  mountain  snow. 

Thus,  ever  thus,  at  day's  decline 

In  converse  sweet  to  wander  far  — 

O  bring  with  thee  my  Caroline,  1 5 

And  thou  shalt  be  my  Ruling  Star ! 

T.  Campbell 

CCXXXII 
TO  THE  NIGHT 

Swiftly  walk  over  the  western  wave, 

Spirit  of  Night ! 
Out  of  the  misty  eastern  cave 

Where,  all  the  long  and  lone  daylight,  20 

Thou  wo  vest  dreams  of  joy  and  fear 
Which  make  thee  terrible  and  dear,  — 

Swift  be  thy  flight ! 

Wrap  thy  form  in  a  mantle  gray 

Star-inwrought;  25 

Blind  with  thine  hair  the  eyes  of  Day, 
Kiss  her  until  she  be  wearied  out : 
Then  wander  o'er  city  and  sea  and  land, 
Touching  all  with  thine  opiate  wand  — 

Come,  long-sought!  30 


238  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

When  I  arose  and  saw  the  dawn, 

I  sigh'd  for  thee ; 

When  light  rode  high,  and  the  dew  was  gone, 
And  noon  lay  heavy  on  flower  and  tree, 
And  the  weary  Day  turn'd  to  his  rest  5 

Lingering  like  an  unloved  guest, 

I  sigh'd  for  thee. 

Thy  brother  Death  came,  and  cried 

Wouldst  thou  me  ? 

Thy  sweet  child  Sleep,  the  filmy-eyed,  ro 

Murmur 'd  like  a  noontide  bee 
Shall  I  nestle  near  thy  side  ? 
Wouldst  thou  me  ?  —  And  I  replied 

No,  not  thee ! 

Death  will  come  when  thou  art  dead,  15 

Soon,  too  soon  — 

Sleep  will  come  when  thou  art  fled ; 
Of  neither  would  I  ask  the  boon 
I  ask  of  thee,  belove'd  Night  — 
Swift  be  thine  approaching  flight,  20 

Come  soon,  soon ! 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCXXXIII 
TO  A  DISTANT  FRIEND 

Why  art  thou  silent  ?    Is  thy  love  a  plant 

Of  such  weak  fiber  that  the  treacherous  air 

Of  absence  withers  what  was  once  so  fair  ? 

Is  there  no  debt  to  pay,  no  boon  to  grant?  25 

Yet  have  my  thoughts  for  thee  been  vigilant, 
Bound  to  thy  service  with  unceasing  care  — 
The  mind's  least  generous  wish  a  mendicant 
For  naught  but  what  thy  happiness  could  spare. 


BOOK  FOURTH  239 

Speak !  — though  this  soft  warm  heart,  once  free  to  hold 
A  thousand  tender  pleasures,  thine  and  mine, 
Be  left  more  desolate,  more  dreary  cold 

Than  a  forsaken  bird's-nest  fill'd  with  snow 

'Mid  its  own  bush  of  leafless  eglantine  —  5 

Speak,  that  my  torturing  doubts  their  end  may  know ! 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCXXXIV 

When  we  two  parted 

In  silence  and  tears, 

Half  broken-hearted, 

To  sever  for  years,  10 

Pale  grew  thy  cheek  and  cold, 

Colder  thy  kiss ; 

Truly  that  hour  foretold 

Sorrow  to  this ! 

The  dew  of  the  morning  15 

Sunk  chill  on  my  brow ; 

It  felt  like  the  warning 

Of  what  I  feel  now. 

Thy  vows  are  all  broken, 

And  light  is  thy  fame :  20 

I  hear  thy  name  spoken 

And  share  in  its  shame. 

They  name  thee  before  me, 

A  knell  to  mine  ear ; 

A  shudder  comes  o'er  me —  25 

Why  wert  thou  so  dear  ? 

They  know  not  I  knew  thee 

Who  knew  thee  too  well : 

Long,  long  shall  I  rue  thee, 

Too  deeply  to  tell.  30 


240  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

In  secret  we  met : 

In  silence  I  grieve 

That  thy  heart  could  forget, 

Thy  spirit  deceive. 

If  I  should  meet  thee  5 

After  long  years, 

How  should  I  greet  thee?  — 

With  silence  and  tears. 

Lord  Byron 

ccxxxv 
HAPPY  INSENSIBILITY 

In  a  drear-nighted  December, 

Too  happy,  happy  tree,  10 

Thy  branches  ne'er  remember 

Their  green  felicity : 

The  north  cannot  undo  them 

With  a  sleety  whistle  through  them, 

Nor  frozen  thawings  glue  them  15 

From  budding  at  the  prime. 

In  a  drear-nighted  December, 

Too  happy,  happy  brook, 

Thy  bubblings  ne'er  remember 

Apollo's  summer  look ;  20 

But  with  a  sweet  forgetting 

They  stay  their  crystal  fretting, 

Never,  never  petting 

About  the  frozen  time. 

Ah !  would  't  were  so  with  many  25 

A  gentle  girl  and  boy  ! 

But  were  there  ever  any 

Writhed  not  at  passed  joy  ? 

To  know  the  change  and  feel  it, 

When  there  is  none  to  heal  it  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  241 

Nor  numbed  sense  to  steal  it  — 
Was  never  said  in  rhyme. 

/.  Keats 

CCXXXVI 

Where  shall  the  lover  rest 

Whom  the  fates  sever 
From  his  true  maiden's  breast  5 

Parted  forever? 
Where,  through  groves  deep  and  high 

Sounds  the  far  billow, 
Where  early  violets  die 

Under  the  willow.  10 

Eleu  loro 

Soft  shall  be  his  pillow. 

There  through  the  summer  day 

Cool  streams  are  laving : 
There,  while  the  tempests  sway,  15 

Scarce  are  boughs  waving ; 
There  thy  rest  shalt  thou  take 

Parted  forever, 
Never  again  to  wake 

Never,  O  never !  20 

Eleu  loro 

Never,  O  never  ! 

Where  shall  the  traitor  rest, 

He,  the  deceiver, 
Who  could  win  maiden's  breast,  25 

Ruin,  and  leave  her? 
In  the  lost  battle, 

Borne  down  by  the  flying, 
Where  mingles  war's  rattle 

With  groans  of  the  dying ;  30 

Eleu  loro 

There  shall  he  be  lying. 


242  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Her  wing  shall  the  eagle  flap 

O'er  the  falsehearted ; 
His  warm  blood  the  wolf  shall  lap 

Ere  life  be  parted : 
Shame  and  dishonor  sit  5 

By  his  grave  ever ; 
Blessing  shall  hallow  it 

Never,  O  never! 
Eleu  loro 

Never,  O  never!  10 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCXXXVII 
LA  BELLE  DAME  SANS  MERCI 

"  O  what  can  ail  thee,  knight-at-arms, 

Alone  and  palely  loitering  ? 
The  sedge  has  wither'd  from  the  lake, 

And  no  birds  sing. 

"  O  what  can  ail  thee,  knight-at-arms !  1 5 

So  haggard  and  so  woebegone? 
The  squirrel's  granary  is  full, 

And  the  harvest 's  done. 

"  I  see  a  lily  on  thy  brow 

With  anguish  moist  and  fever-dew,  20 

And  on  thy  cheeks  a  fading  rose 

Fast  withereth  too." 

"  I  met  a  lady  in  the  meads, 

Full  beautiful  —  a  faery's  child, 
Her  hair  was  long,  her  foot  was  light,  25 

And  her  eyes  were  wild. 

"  I  made  a  garland  for  her  head, 

And  bracelets  too,  and  fragrant  zone ; 


BOOK  FOURTH  243 

She  look'd  at  me  as  she  did  love, 
And  made  sweet  moan. 

"  I  set  her  on  my  pacing  steed 

And  nothing  else  saw  all  day  long, 
For  sidelong  would  she  bend,  and  sing  5 

A  faery's  song. 

"  She  found  me  roots  of  relish  sweet, 

And  honey  wild  and  manna-dew, 
And  sure  in  language  strange  she  said 

1 1  love  thee  true.'  10 

"  She  took  me  to  her  elfin  grot, 

And  there  she  wept  and  sigh'd  full  sore ; 

And  there  I  shut  her  wild  wild  eyes 
With  kisses  four. 

"  And  there  she  lulled  me  asleep,  15 

And  there  I  dream'd  —  Ah !  woe  betide ! 

The  latest  dream  I  ever  dream'd 
On  the  cold  hill's  side. 

"  I  saw  pale  kings  and  princes  too, 

Pale  warriors,  death-pale  were  they  all :  20 

They  cried  — f  La  belle  Dame  sans  Merci 

Hath  thee  in  thrall ! ' 

"  I  saw  their  starved  lips  in  the  gloam 

With  horrid  warning  gape*d  wide, 
And  I  awoke  and  found  me  here  25 

On  the  cold  hill's  side. 

"  And  this  is  why  I  sojourn  here 

Alone  and  palely  loitering, 
Though  the  sedge  is  wither'd  from  the  lake, 

And  no  birds  sing."  30 

/.  Keats 


244  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCXXXVIII 
THE  ROVER 

A  weary  lot  is  thine,  fair  maid, 

A  weary  lot  is  thine ! 
To  pull  the  thorn  thy  brow  to  braid, 

And  press  the  rue  for  wine. 
A  lightsome  eye,  a  soldier's  mien,  5 

A  feather  of  the  blue, 
A  doublet  of  the  Lincoln  green  — 

No  more  of  me  you  knew 

My  Love ! 
No  more  of  me  you  knew.  10 

"  This  morn  is  merry  June,  I  trow, 

The  rose  is  budding  fain ; 
But  she  shall  bloom  in  winter  snow 

Ere  we  two  meet  again." 
He  turn'd  his  charger  as  he  spake  15 

Upon  the  river  shore, 
He  gave  the  bridle  reins  a  shake, 

Said  "  Adieu  forevermore 
My  Love ! 

And  adieu  forevermore."  20 

Sir  W.  Scott 

ccxxxix 
THE  FLIGHT  OF  LOVE 

When  the  lamp  is  shatter'd 

The  light  in  the  dust  lies  dead  — 

When  the  cloud  is  scattered, 

The  rainbow's  glory  is  shed. 

When  the  lute  is  broken,  25 

Sweet  tones  are  remember'd  not ; 

When  the  lips  have  spoken, 

Loved  accents  are  soon  forgot. 


BOOK  FOURTH  245 

As  music  and  splendor 

Survive  not  the  lamp  and  the  lute, 

The  heart's  echoes  render 

No  song  when  the  spirit  is  mute  — 

No  song  but  sad  dirges,  5 

Like  the  wind  through  a  ruin'd  cell, 

Or  the  mournful  surges 

That  ring  the  dead  seaman's  knell. 

When  hearts  have  once  mingled, 

Love  first  leaves  the  well-built  nest ;  10 

The  weak  one  is  singled 

To  endure  what  it  once  possesst. 

O  Love  !  who  bewailest 

The  frailty  of  all  things  here, 

Why  choose  you  the  frailest  1 5 

For  your  cradle,  your  home,  and  your  bier  ? 

Its  passions  will  rock  thee 

As  the  storms  rock  the  ravens  on  high ; 

Bright  reason  will  mock  thee 

Like  the  sun  from  a  wintry  sky.  20 

From  thy  nest  every  rafter 

Will  rot,  and  thine  eagle  home 

Leave  thee  naked  to  laughter, 

When  leaves  fall  and  cold  winds  come. 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCXL 
THE  MAID  OF  NEIDPATH 

O  lovers'  eyes  are  sharp  to  see,  25 

And  lovers'  ears  in  hearing ; 
And  love,  in  life's  extremity, 

Can  lend  an  hour  of  cheering. 
Disease  had  been  in  Mary's  bower 

And  slow  decay  from  mourning,  30 


246  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Though  now  she  sits  on  Neidpath's  tower 
To  watch  her  Love's  returning. 

All  sunk  and  dim  her  eyes  so  bright, 

Her  form  decay'd  by  pining, 
Till  through  her  wasted  hand,  at  night,  5 

You  saw  the  taper  shining. 
By  fits  a  sultry  hectic  hue 

Across  her  cheek  was  flying ; 
By  fits  so  ashy  pale  she  grew 

Her  maidens  thought  her  dying.  10 

Yet  keenest  powers  to  see  and  hear 

Seem'd  in  her  frame  residing ; 
Before  the  watch-dog  prick'd  his  ear 

She  heard  her  lover's  riding ; 
Ere  scarce  a  distant  form  was  kenn'd  15 

She  knew  and  waved  to  greet  him, 
And  o'er  the  battlement  did  bend 

As  on  the  wing  to  meet  him. 

He  came  —  he  pass'd  —  an  heedless  gaze 

As  o'er  some  stranger  glancing ;  20 

Her  welcome,  spoke  in  faltering  phrase, 

Lost  in  his  courser's  prancing  — 
The  castle  arch,  whose  hollow  tone 

Returns  each  whisper  spoken, 
Could  scarcely  catch  the  feeble  moan  25 

Which  told  her  heart  was  broken. 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCXLI 

Earl  March  look'd  on  his  dying  child, 
And,  smit  with  grief  to  view  her  — 

The  youth,  he  cried,  whom  I  exiled 

Shall  be  restored  to  woo  her.  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  247 

She  's  at  the  window  many  an  hour 

His  coming  to  discover : 
And  he  look'd  up  to  Ellen's  bower 

And  she  look'd  on  her  lover  — 

But  ah !  so  pale,  he  knew  her  not,  5 

Though  her  smile  on  him  was  dwelling  — 

And  am  I  then  forgot  —  forgot  ? 
It  broke  the  heart  of  Ellen. 

In  vain  he  weeps,  in  vain  he  sighs, 

Her  cheek  is  cold  as  ashes ;  10 

Nor  love's  own  kiss  shall  wake  those  eyes 

To  lift  their  silken  lashes. 

T.  Campbell 

CCXLII 

Bright  Star !  would  I  were  steadfast  as  thou  art  — 
Not  in  lone  splendor  hung  aloft  the  night, 
And  watching,  with  eternal  lids  apart,  15 

Like  Nature's  patient  sleepless  Eremite, 

The  moving  waters  at  their  priestlike  task 

Of  pure  ablution  round  earth's  human  shores, 

Or  gazing  on  the  new  soft  fallen  mask 

Of  snow  upon  the  mountains  and  the  moors :  —  20 

No  —  yet  still  steadfast,  still  unchangeable, 
Pillow'd  upon  my  fair  Love's  ripening  breast 
To  feel  forever  its  soft  fall  and  swell, 
Awake  forever  in  a  sweet  unrest ; 

Still,  still  to  hear  her  tender-taken  breath,  25 

And  so  live  ever,  —  or  else  swoon  to  death. 

/.  Keats 


248  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCXLIII 
THE  TERROR  OF  DEATH 

When  I  have  fears  that  I  may  cease  to  be 
Before  my  pen  has  glean'd  my  teeming  brain, 
Before  high-pile'd  books,  in  charact'ry 
Hold  like  rich  garners  the  full-ripen'd  grain ; 

When  I  behold,  upon  the  night's  starr'd  face,  5 

Huge  cloudy  symbols  of  a  high  romance, 
And  think  that  I  may  never  live  to  trace 
Their  shadows,  with  the  magic  hand  of  chance ; 

And  when  I  feel,  fair  Creature  of  an  hour ! 

That  I  shall  never  look  upon  thee  more,  10 

Never  have  relish  in  the  faery  power 

Of  unreflecting  love  —  then  on  the  shore 

Of  the  wide  world  I  stand  alone,  and  think 
Till  Love  and  Fame  to  nothingness  do  sink. 

/.  teats 

CCXLIV 
DESIDERIA 

Surprised  by  joy  —  impatient  as  the  wind —  15 

I  turn'd  to  share  the  transport  —  oh  !  with  whom 
But  Thee  —  deep  buried  in  the  silent  tomb, 
That  spot  which  no  vicissitude  can  find  ? 

Love,  faithful  love  recall'd  thee  to  my  mind  — 

But  how  could  I  forget  thee  ?   Through  what  power        20 

Even  for  the  least  division  of  an  hour 

Have  I  been  so  beguiled  as  to  be  blind 

To  my  most  grievous  loss  !  —  That  thought's  return 

Was  the  worst  pang  that  sorrow  ever  bore 

Save  one,  one  only,  when  I  stood  forlorn,  25 


BOOK  FOURTH  249 

Knowing  my  heart's  best  treasure  was  no  more ; 
That  neither  present  time,  nor  years  unborn 
Could  to  my  sight  that  heavenly  face  restore. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCXLV 

At  the  mid  hour  of  night,  when  stars  are  weeping,  I  fly 
To  the  lone  vale  we  loved,  when  life  shone  warm  in  thine 

eye;  5 

And  I  think  oft,  if  spirits  can  steal  from  the  regions  of  air 
To  revisit  past  scenes  of  delight,  thou  wilt  come  to  me 

there 
And  tell  me  our  love  is  remember'd,  even  in  the  sky ! 

Then  I  sing  the  wild  song  it  once  was  rapture  to  hear 
When  our  voices,  commingling,  breathed  like  one  on  the 

ear ;  10 

And  as  Echo  far  off  through  the  vale  my  sad  orison  rolls, 
I  think,  oh  my  Love!   'tis  thy  voice,  from  the  Kingdom 

of  Souls 
Faintly  answering  still  the  notes  that  once  were  so  dear. 

T.  Moore 

CCXLVI 
ELEGY  ON  THYRZA 

And  thou  art  dead,  as  young  and  fair 

As  aught  of  mortal  birth ;  15 

And  forms  so  soft  and  charms  so  rare 

Too  soon  return'd  to  Earth ! 
Though  Earth  received  them  in  her  bed, 
And  o'er  the  spot  the  crowd  may  tread 

In  carelessness  or  mirth,  20 

There  is  an  eye  which  could  not  brook 
A  moment  on  that  grave  to  look. 

I  will  not  ask  where  thou  liest  low 
Nor  gaze  upon  the  spot ; 


250  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

There  flowers  or  weeds  at  will  may  grow 

So  I  behold  them  not : 
It  is  enough  for  me  to  prove 
That  what  I  loved,  and  long  must  love, 

Like  common  earth  can  rot ;  5 

To  me  there  needs  no  stone  to  tell 
'T  is  Nothing  that  I  loved  so  well. 

Yet  did  I  love  thee  to  the  last, 

As  fervently  as  thou 
Who  didst  not  change  through  all  the  past  10 

And  canst  not  alter  now. 
The  love  where  Death  has  set  his  seal 
Nor  age  can  chill,  nor  rival  steal, 

Nor  falsehood  disavow : 

And,  what  were  worse,  thou  canst  not  see  15 

Or  wrong,  or  change,  or  fault  in  me. 

The  better  days  of  life  were  ours ; 

The  worst  can  be  but  mine : 
The  sun  that  cheers,  the  storm  that  lours, 

Shall  never  more  be  thine.  ao 

The  silence  of  that  dreamless  sleep 
I  envy  now  too  much  to  weep ; 

Nor  need  I  to  repine 
That  all  those  charms  have  pass'd  away 
I  might  have  watch'd  through  long  decay.  25 

The  flower  in  ripen'd  bloom  unmatched 

Must  fa}l  the  earliest  prey ; 
Though  by  no  hand  untimely  snatch'd, 

The  leaves  must  drop  away. 

And  yet  it  were  a  greater  grief  3° 

To  watch  it  withering,  leaf  by  leaf, 

Than  see  it  pluck'd  to-day ; 
Since  earthly  eye  but  ill  can  bear 
To  trace  the  change  to  foul  from  fair. 


BOOK  FOURTH  251 

I  know  not  if  I  could  have  borne 

To  see  thy  beauties  fade ; 
The  night  that  followed  such  a  morn 

Had  worn  a  deeper  shade : 

Thy  day  without  a  cloud  hath  past,  5 

And  thou  wert  lovely  to  the  last, 

Extinguish'd,  not  decay'd ; 
As  stars  that  shoot  along  the  sky 
Shine  brightest  as  they  fall  from  high. 

As  once  I  wept,  if  I  could  weep,  10 

My  tears  might  well  be  shed 
To  think  I  was  not  near,  to  keep 

One  vigil  o'er  thy  bed : 
To  gaze,  how  fondly !  on  thy  face, 
To  fold  thee  in  a  faint  embrace,  15 

Uphold  thy  drooping  head ; 
And  show  that  love,  however  vain, 
Nor  thou  nor  I  can  feel  again. 

Yet  how  much  less  it  were  to  gain, 

Though  thou  hast  left  me  free,  20 

The  loveliest  things  that  still  remain 

Than  thus  remember  thee ! 
The  all  of  thine  that  cannot  die 
Through  dark  and  dread  Eternity 

Returns  again  to  me,  25 

And  more  thy  buried  love  endears 
Than  aught  except  its  living  years. 

Lord  Byron 

CCXLVII 

One  word  is  too  often  profaned 

For  me  to  profane  it, 
One  feeling  too  falsely  disdain'd  30 

For  thee  to  disdain  it. 


252  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

One  hope  is  too  like  despair 

For  prudence  to  smother, 
And  pity  from  thee  more  dear 

Than  that  from  another. 

I  can  give  not  what  men  call  love ;  5 

But  wilt  thou  accept  not 
The  worship  the  heart  lifts  above 

And  the  Heavens  reject  not : 
The  desire  of  the  moth  for  the  star, 

Of  the  night  for  the  morrow,  10 

The  devotion  to  something  afar 

From  the  sphere  of  our  sorrow  ? 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCXLVIII 
GATHERING  SONG  OF  DONALD  THE  BLACK 

Pibroch  of  Donuil  Dhu 

Pibroch  of  Donuil 
Wake  thy  wild  voice  anew,  15 

Summon  Clan  Conuil. 
Come  away,  come  away, 

Hark  to  the  summons ! 
Come  in  your  war  array, 

Gentles  and  commons.  2< 

Come  from  deep  glen,  and 

From  mountain  so  rocky ; 
The  war-pipe  and  pennon 

Are  at  Inverlocky. 
Come  every  hill-plaid,  and  25 

True  heart  that  wears  one, 
Come  every  steel  blade,  and 

Strong  hand  that  bears  one. 


BOOK  FOURTH  253 

Leave  untended  the  herd, 

The  flock  without  shelter; 
Leave  the  corpse  uninterr'd, 

The  bride  at  the  altar ; 
Leave  the  deer,  leave  the  steer,  5 

Leave  nets  and  barges : 
Come  with  your  fighting  gear, 

Broadswords  and  targes. 

Come  as  the  winds  come,  when 

Forests  are  rended,  10 

Come  as  the  waves  come,  when 

Navies  are  stranded : 
Faster  come,  faster  come, 

Faster  and  faster, 
Chief,  vassal,  page  and  groom,  1 5 

Tenant  and  master. 

Fast  they  come,  fast  they  come ; 

See  how  they  gather ! 
Wide  waves  the  eagle  plume 

Blended  with  heather.  20 

Cast  your  plaids,  draw  your  blades, 

Forward  each  man  set ! 
Pibroch  of  Donuil  Dhu 

Knell  for  the  onset ! 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCXLIX 

A  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea,  25 

A  wind  that  follows  fast 
And  fills  the  white  and  rustling  sail 

And  bends  the  gallant  mast ; 
And  bends  the  gallant  mast,  my  boys, 

While  like  the  eagle  free  30 


254  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Away  the  good  ship  flies,  and  leaves 
Old  England  on  the  lee. 

O  for  a  soft  and  gentle  wind ! 

I  heard  a  fair  one  cry  ; 
But  give  to  me  the  snoring  breeze  5 

And  white  waves  heaving  high ; 
And  white  waves  heaving  high,  my  lads, 

The  good  ship  tight  and  free  — 
The  world  of  waters  is  our  home, 

And  merry  men  are  we.  10 

There  's  tempest  in  yon  horne'd  moon, 

And  lightning  in  yon  cloud  ; 
But  hark  the  music,  mariners  ! 

The  wind  is  piping  loud  ; 
The  wind  is  piping  loud,  my  boys,  15 

The  lightning  flashes  free  — 
While  the  hollow  oak  our  palace  is, 

Our  heritage  the  sea. 

A.  Cunningham 

CCL 

Ye  Mariners  of  England 

That  guard  our  native  seas !  20 

Whose  flag  has  braved,  a  thousand  years t 

The  battle  and  the  breeze  ! 

Your  glorious  standard  launch  again 

To  match  another  foe  : 

And  sweep  through  the  deep,  25 

While  the  stormy  winds  do  blow ; 

While  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow. 

The  spirits  of  your  fathers 

Shall  start  from  every  wave  —  3° 

For  the  deck  it  was  their  field  of  fame, 

And  Ocean  was  their  grave ; 


BOOK  FOURTH  255 

Where  Blake  and  mighty  Nelson  fell 

Your  manly  hearts  shall  glow, 

As  ye  sweep  through  the  deep, 

While  the  stormy  winds  do  blow; 

While  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long  5 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow. 

Britannia  needs  no  bulwarks, 

No  towers  along  the  steep ; 

Her  march  is  o'er  the  mountain  waves, 

Her  home  is  on  the  deep.  I0 

With  thunders  from  her  native  oak 

She  quells  the  floods  below  — 

As  they  roar  on  the  shore, 

When  the  stormy  winds  do  blow ; 

When  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long,  15 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow. 

The  meteor  flag  of  England 

Shall  yet  terrific  burn  ; 

Till  danger's  troubled  night  depart 

And  the  star  of  peace  return.  20 

Then,  then,  ye  ocean  warriors  ! 

Our  song  and  feast  shall  flow 

To  the  fame  of  your  name, 

When  the  storm  has  ceased  to  blow ; 

When  the  fiery  fight  is  heard  no  more,  25 

And  the  storm  has  ceased  to  blow.       » 

T.  Campbell 

CCLI 
BATTLE  OF  THE  BALTIC 

Of  Nelson  and  the  North 

Sing  the  glorious  day's  renown, 

When  to  battle  fierce  came  forth 

All  the  might  of  Denmark's  crown,  30 

And  her  arms  along  the  deep  proudly  shone ; 


256  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

By  each  gun  the  lighted  brand 
In  a  bold  determined  hand, 
And  the  Prince  of  all  the  land 
Led  them  on. 

Like  leviathans  afloat  5 

Lay  their  bulwarks  on  the  brine ; 

While  the  sign  of  battle  flew 

On  the  lofty  British  line  : 

It  was  ten  of  April  morn  by  the  chime : 

As  they  drifted  on  their  path  10 

There  was  silence  deep  as  death ; 

And  the  boldest  held  his  breath 

For  a  time. 

But  the  might  of  England  flush'd 

To  anticipate  the  scene  ;  1 5 

And  her  van  the  fleeter  rush'd 

O'er  the  deadly  space  between. 

"  Hearts  of  oak !  "  our  captains  cried,-when  each  gun 

From  its  adamantine  lips 

Spread  a  death  shade  round  the  ships,  20 

Like  the  hurricane  eclipse 

Of  the  sun. 

Again  !  again !  again  ! 

And  the  havoc  did  not  slack, 

Till  a  feeble  cheer  the  Dane  25 

To  our  cheering  sent  us  back ;  — 

Their  shots- along  the  deep  slowly  boom :  — 

Then  ceased  —  and  all  is  wail, 

As  they  strike  the  shatter'd  sail ; 

Or  in  conflagration  pale  30 

Light  the  gloom. 

Out  spoke  the  victor  then 

As  he  hail'd  them  o'er  the  wave, 


BOOK  FOURTH  257 

"  Ye  are  brothers  !  ye  are  men  ! 

And  we  conquer  but  to  save  :  — 

So  peace  instead  of  death  let  us  bring : 

But  yield,  proud  foe,  thy  fleet 

With  the  crews,  at  England's  feet,  5 

And  make  submission  meet 

To  our  King." 

Then  Denmark  bless'd  our  chief 

That  he  gave  her  wounds  repose ; 

And  the  sounds  of  joy  and  grief  10 

From  her  people  wildly  rose, 

As  death  withdrew  his  shades  from  the  day : 

While  the  sun  look'd  smiling  bright 

O'er  a  wide  and  woeful  sight, 

Where  the  fires  of  funeral  light  15 

Died  away. 

Now  joy,  old  England,  raise ! 

For  the  tidings  of  thy  might, 

By  the  festal  cities'  blaze, 

Whilst  the  wine  cup  shines  in  light ;  20 

And  yet  amidst  that  joy  and  uproar, 

Let  us  think  of  them  that  sleep 

Full  many  a  fathom  deep 

By  thy  wild  and  stormy  steep, 

Elsinore !  25 

Brave  hearts !  to  Britain's  pride 

Once  so  faithful  and  so  true, 

On  the  deck  of  fame  that  died, 

With  the  gallant  good  Riou : 

Soft  sigh  the  winds  of  Heaven  o'er  their  grave !  30 

While  the  billow  mournful  rolls 

And  the  mermaid's  song  condoles 

Singing  glory  to  the  souls 

Of  the  brave ! 

T.  Campbell 


258  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCLII 
ODE  TO  DUTY 

Stern  Daughter  of  the  Voice  of  God ! 
O  Duty !  if  that  name  thou  love 
Who  art  a  light  to  guide,  a  rod 
To  check  the  erring,  and  reprove ; 

Thou  who  art  victory  and  law  5 

When  empty  terrors  overawe ; 
From  vain  temptations  dost  set  free, 
And  calm'st  the  weary  strife  of  frail  humanity  I 

There  are  who  ask  not  if  thine  eye 

Be  on  them ;  who,  in  love  and  truth  10 

Where  no  misgiving  is,  rely 
Upon  the  genial  sense  of  youth : 
Glad  hearts !  without  reproach  or  blot, 
Who  do  thy  work,  and  know  it  not : 

Oh !  if  through  confidence  misplaced  1 5 

They  fail,  thy  saving  arms,  dread  Power !  around  them  cast. 

Serene  will  be  our  days  and  bright 
And  happy  will  our  nature  be 
When  love  is  an  unerring  light, 

And  joy  its  own  security.  20 

And  they  a  blissful  course  may  hold 
Ev'n  now,  who,  not  unwisely  bold, 
Live  in  the  spirit  of  this  creed ; 
Yet  seek  thy  firm  support,  according  to  their  need. 

I,  loving  freedom,  and  untried,  25 

No  sport  of  every  random  gust, 
Yet  being  to  myself  a  guide, 
Too  blindly  have  reposed  my  trust : 
And  oft,  when  in  my  heart  was  heard 
Thy  timely  mandate,  I  deferr'd  30 

The  task,  in  smoother  walks  to  stray ; 
But  thee  I  now  would  serve  more  strictly,  if  I  may. 


BOOK  FOURTH  259 

Through  no  disturbance  of  my  soul 
Or  strong  compunction  in  me  wrought, 
I  supplicate  for  thy  control, 
But  in  the  quietness  of  thought : 

Me  this  uncharter'd  freedom  tires ;  5 

I  feel  the  weight  of  chance  desires : 
My  hopes  no  more  must  change  their  name ; 
I  long  for  a  repose  that  ever  is  the  same. 

Stern  Lawgiver  !  yet  thou  dost  wear 
The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace ;  10 

Nor  know  we  anything  so  fair 
As  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face : 
Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds, 
And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads ; 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  Stars  from  wrong ;  1 5 

And  the  most  ancient  Heavens,  through  Thee,  are 
fresh  and  strong. 

To  humbler  functions,  awful  Power ! 
I  call  thee :  I  myself  commend 
Unto  thy  guidance  from  this  hour ; 
Oh  let  my  weakness  have  an  end !  20 

Give  unto  me,  made  lowly  wise, 
The  spirit  of  self-sacrifice ; 
The  confidence  of  reason  give ; 
And  in  the  light  of  truth  thy  Bondman  let  me  live. 

W.  Wordsworth 
CCLIII 
ON  THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON 

Eternal  Spirit  of  the  chainless  Mind !  25 

Brightest  in  dungeons,  Liberty !  thou  art, 

For  there  thy  habitation  is  the  heart  — 

The  heart  which  love  of  Thee  alone  can  bind ; 

And  when  thy  sons  to  fetters  are  consign 'd, 

To  fetters,  and  the  damp  vault's  dayless  gloom,  .          30 


260  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Their  country  conquers  with  their  martyrdom, 
And  Freedom's  fame  finds  wings  on  every  wind. 

Chillon !  thy  prison  is  a  holy  place 

And  thy  sad  floor  an  altar,  for  't  was  trod, 

Until  his  very  steps  have  left  a  trace  5 

Worn  as  if  thy  cold  pavement  were  a  sod, 
By  Bonnivard !  May  none  those  marks  efface ! 
For  they  appeal  from  tyranny  to  God. 

Lord  Byron 

CCLIV 
ENGLAND  AND  SWITZERLAND,  1802 

Two  Voices  are  there ;  one  is  of  the  Sea, 

One  of  the  Mountains  ;  each  a  mighty  voice  :  10 

In  both  from  age  to  age  thou  didst  rejoice, 

They  were  thy  chosen  music,  Liberty ! 

There  came  a  tyrant,  and  with  holy  glee 
Thou  f ought'st  against  him,  —  but  hast  vainly  striven ; 
Thou  from  thy  Alpine  holds  at  length  art  driven,  15 

Where  not  a  torrent  murmurs  heard  by  thee. 

—  Of  one  deep  bliss  thine  ear  hath  been  bereft ; 
Then  cleave,  O  cleave  to  that  which  still  is  left  — 
For,  high-soul'd  Maid,  what  sorrow  would  it  be 

That  Mountain  floods  should  thunder  as  before,  20 

And  Ocean  bellow  from  his  rocky  shore, 
And  neither  awful  Voice  be  heard  by  Thee ! 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCLV 
ON  THE  EXTINCTION  OF  THE  VENETIAN  REPUBLIC 

Once  did  She  hold  the  gorgeous  East  in  fee 

And  was  the  safeguard  of  the  West ;  the  worth 

Of  Venice  did  not  fall  below  her  birth,  25 

Venice,  the  eldest  child  of  Liberty. 


BOOK  FOURTH  261 

She  was  a  maiden  city,  bright  and  free ; 
No  guile  seduced,  no  force  could  violate ; 
And  when  she  took  unto  herself  a  mate, 
She  must  espouse  the  everlasting  Sea. 

And  what  if  she  had  seen  those  glories  fade,  5 

Those  titles  vanish,  and  that  strength  decay,  — 
Yet  shall  some  tribute  of  regret  be  paid 

When  her  long  life  hath  reach'd  its  final  day : 
Men  are  we,  and  must  grieve  when  even  the  shade 
Of  that  which  once  was  great  is  pass'd  away.  10 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCLVI 
LONDON,  1802 

O  Friend  !  I  know  not  which  way  I  must  look 

For  comfort,  being,  as  I  am,  opprest 

To  think  that  now  our  life  is  only  drest 

For  show ;  mean  handiwork  of  craftsman,  cook, 

Or  groom  !  —  We  must  run  glittering  like  a  brook  1 5 

In  the  open  sunshine,  or  we  are  unblest ; 
The  wealthiest  man  among  us  is  the  best : 
No  grandeur  now  in  nature  or  in  book 

Delights  us.    Rapine,  avarice,  expense, 

This  is  idolatry ;  and  these  we  adore :  20 

Plain  living  and  high  thinking  are  no  more : 

The  homely  beauty  of  the  good  old  cause 
Is  gone;  our  peace,  our  fearful  innocence, 
And  pure  religion  breathing  household  laws. 

W.  Wordsworth 


262  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCLVII 
THE  SAME 

Milton  !  thou  shouldst  be  living  at  this  hour : 
England  hath  need  of  thee :  she  is  a  fen 
Of  stagnant  waters :  altar,  sword,  and  pen, 
Fireside,  the  heroic  wealth  of  hall  and  bower, 

Have  forfeited  their  ancient  English  dower  5 

Of  inward  happiness.   We  are  selfish  men : 

Oh !  raise  us  up,  return  to  us  again ; 

And  give  us  manners,  virtue,  freedom,  power. 

Thy  soul  was  like  a  Star,  and  dwelt  apart : 

Thou  hadst  a  voice  whose  sound  was  like  the  sea,  10 

Pure  as  the  naked  heavens,  majestic,  free ; 

So  didst  thou  travel  on  life's  common  way 
In  cheerful  godliness ;  and  yet  thy  heart 
The  lowliest  duties  on  herself  did  lay. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCLVIII 

When  I  have  borne  in  memory  what  has  tamed  1 5 

Great  nations ;  how  ennobling  thoughts  depart 
When  men  change  swords  for  ledgers,  and  desert 
The  student's  bower  for  gold,  —  some  fears  unnamed 

I  had,  my  Country !  —  am  I  to  be  blamed  ? 

Now,  when  I  think  of  thee,  and  what  thou  art,  20 

Verily,  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart 

Of  those  unfilial  fears  I  am  ashamed. 

For  dearly  must  we  prize  thee ;  we  who  find 

In  thee  a  bulwark  for  the  cause  of  men ; 

And  I  by  my  affection  was  beguiled:  25 


BOOK  FOURTH  263 

What  wonder  if  a  Poet  now  and  then, 
Among  the  many  movements  of  his  mind, 
Felt  for  thee  as  a  lover  or  a  child ! 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCLIX 
HOHENLINDEN 

On  Linden,  when  the  sun  was  low, 
All  bloodless  lay  the  untrodden  snow ;  5 

And  dark  as  winter  was  the  flow 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

But  Linden  saw  another  sight, 
When  the  drum  beat  at  dead  of  night 
Commanding  fires  of  death  to  light  10 

The  darkness  of  her  scenery. 

By  torch  and  trumpet  fast  array'd 
Each  horseman  drew  his  battle  blade, 
And  furious  every  charger  neigh'd 

To  join  the  dreadful  revelry.  15 

Then  shook  the  hills  with  thunder  riven ; 
Then  rush'd  the  steed,  to  battle  driven ; 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  Heaven 
Far  flash'd  the  red  artillery. 

But  redder  yet  that  light  shall  glow  20 

On  Linden's  hills  of  staine'd  snow ; 
And  bloodier  yet  the  torrent  flow 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

'T  is  morn ;  but  scarce  yon  level  sun 
Can  pierce  the  war  clouds  rolling  dun,  25 

Where  furious  Frank  and  fiery  Hun 
Shout  in  their  sulphurous  canopy. 


264  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  combat  deepens.    On,  ye  Brave 
Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave ! 
Wave,  Munich  !  all  thy  banners  wave, 
And  charge  with  all  thy  chivalry ! 

Few,  few  shall  part,  where  many  meet !  5 

The  snow  shall  be  their  winding  sheet, 
And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet 
Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulcher. 

T.  Campbell 

CCLX 
AFTER  BLENHEIM 

It  was  a  summer  evening, 

Old  Kaspar's  work  was  done,  10 

And  he  before  his  cottage  door 

Was  sitting  in  the  sun ; 

And  by  him  sported  on  the  green 
His  little  grandchild  Wilhelmine. 

She  saw  her  brother  Peterkin  15 

Roll  something  large  and  round 
Which  he  beside  the  rivulet 

In  playing  there  had  found ; 
He  came  to  ask  what  he  had  found 
That  was  so  large  and  smooth  and  round.  20 

Old  Kaspar  took  it  from  the  boy 

Who  stood  expectant  by ; 
And  then  the  old  man  shook  his  head, 

And  with  a  natural  sigh 

"  'Tis  some  poor  fellow's  skull,"  said  he,  25 

"  Who  fell  in  the  great  victory. 

"  I  find  them  in  the  garden, 

For  there  's  many  here  about ; 
And  often  when  I  go  to  plow 

The  plowshare  turns  them  out.  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  265 

For  many  thousand  men,"  said  he, 
"  Were  slain  in  that  great  victory." 

"  Now  tell  us  what  't  was  all  about," 

Young  Peterkin  he  cries ; 
And  little  Wilhelmine  looks  up  5 

With  wonder-waiting  eyes ; 
"  Now  tell  us  all  about  the  war, 
And  what  they  fought  each  other  for." 

"  It  was  the  English,"  Kaspar  cried, 

tf  Who  put  the  French  to  rout ;  10 

But  what  they  fought  each  other  for 

I  could  not  well  make  out. 
But  everybody  said,"  quoth  he, 
"  That  't  was  a  famous  victory. 

"  My  father  lived  at  Blenheim  then,  15 

Yon  little  stream  hard  by ; 
They  burned  his  dwelling  to  the  ground, 

And  he  was  forced  to  fly : 
So  with  his  wife  and  child  he  fled, 
Nor  had  he  where  to  rest  his  head.  20 

"  With  fire  and  sword  the  country  round 

Was  wasted  far  and  wide, 
And  many  a  childing  mother  then 

And  newborn  baby  died : 

But  things  like  that,  you  know,  must  be  25 

At  every  famous  victory. 

"  They  say  it  was  a  shocking  sight 

After  the  field  was  won ; 
For  many  thousand  bodies  here 

Lay  rotting  in  the  sun :  30 

But  things  like  that,  you  know,  must  be 
After  a  famous  victory. 


266  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

ft  Great  praise  the  Duke  of  Marlbro'  won 

And  our  good  Prince  Eugene;1' 
c  Why  't  was  a  very  wicked  thing ! " 

Said  little  Wilhelmine ; 
11  Nay  ...  nay  ...  my  little  girl,"  quoth  he, 
11  It  was  a  famous  victory. 

"  And  everybody  praised  the  Duke 
Who  this  great  fight  did  win." 

"  But  what  good  came  of  it  at  last?  " 
Quoth  little  Peterkin  :  — 

"  Why  that  I  cannot  tell,"  said  he, 

"  But  'twas  a  famous  victory." 

R.  Southey 


CCLXI 
PRO  PATRIA  MORI 

When  he  who  adores  thee  has  left  but  the  name 

Of  his  fault  and  his  sorrows  behind, 
Oh !  say  wilt  thou  Veep,  when  they  darken  the  fame       1 5 

Of  a  life  that  for  thee  was  resign'd ! 
Yes,  weep,  and  however  my  foes  may  condemn, 

Thy  tears  shall  efface  their  decree ; 
For,  Heaven  can  witness,  though  guilty  to  them, 

I  have  been  but  too  faithful  to  thee.  20 

With  thee  were  the  dreams  of  my  earliest  love ; 

Every  thought  of  my  reason  was  thine : 
In  my  last  humble  prayer  to  the  Spirit  above 

Thy  name  shall  be  mingled  with  mine ! 
Oh !  blest  are  the  lovers  and  friends  who  shall  live          25 

The  days  of  thy  glory  to  see ; 
But  the  next  dearest  blessing  that  Heaven  can  give 

Is  the  pride  of  thus  dying  for  thee. 

T.  Moore 


BOOK  FOURTH  267 

CCLXII 
THE  BURIAL  OF  SIR  JOHN  MOORE  AT  CORUNNA 

Not  a  drum  was  heard,  not  a  funeral  note, 
As  his  corpse  to  the  rampart  we  hurried ; 

Not  a  soldier  discharged  his  farewell  shot 
O'er  the  grave  where  our  hero  we  buried. 

We  buried  him  darkly  at  dead  of  night,  5 

The  sods  with  our  bayonets  turning ; 
By  the  struggling  moonbeam's  misty  light 

And  the  lantern  dimly  burning. 

No  useless  coffin  inclosed  his  breast, 

Not  in  sheet  or  in  shroud  we  wound  him ;  10 

But  he  lay  like  a  warrior  taking  his  rest, 

With  his  martial  cloak  around  him. 

Few  and  short  were  the  prayers  we  said, 

And  we  spoke  not  a  word  of  sorrqw ; 
But  we  steadfastly  gazed  on  the  face  that  was  dead,         15 

And  we  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow. 

We  thought,  as  we  hollow'd  his  narrow  bed 

And  smoothed  down  his  lonely  pillow, 
That  the  foe  and  the  stranger  would  tread  o'er  his  head, 

And  we  far  away  on  the  billow !  20 

Lightly  they  '11  talk  of  the  spirit  that 's  gone 

And  o'er  his  cold  ashes  upbraid  him,  — 
But  little  he  '11  reck,  if  they  let  him  sleep  on 

In  the  grave  where  a  Briton  has  laid  him. 

But  half  of  our  heavy  task  was  done  25 

When  the  clock  struck  the  hour  for  retiring : 

And  we  heard  the  distant  and  random  gun 
That  the  foe  was  sullenly  firing. 


268  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  him  down, 

From  the  field  of  his  fame  fresh  and  gory ; 

We  carved  not  a  line,  and  we  raised  not  a  stone, 
But  we  left  him  alone  with  his  glory. 

C.  Wolfe 

CCLXIII 
SIMON  LEE,  THE  OLD  HUNTSMAN 

In  the  sweet  shire  of  Cardigan,  5 

Not  far  from  pleasant  Ivor  Hall, 

An  old  man  dwells,  a  little  man,  — 

'T  is  said  he  once  was  tall. 

Full  five-and-thirty  years  he  lived 

A  running  huntsman  merry ;  10 

And  still  the  center  of  his  cheek 

Is  red  as  a  ripe  cherry. 

No  man  like  him  the  horn  could  sound, 

And  hill  and  valley  rang  with  glee, 

When  Echo  bandied,  round  and  round,  15 

The  halloo  of  Simon  Lee. 

In  those  proud  days  he  little  cared 

For  husbandry  or  tillage ; 

To  blither  tasks  did  Simon  rouse 

The  sleepers  of  the  village.  20 

He  all  the  country  could  outrun, 

Could  leave  both  man  and  horse  behind : 

And  often,  ere  the  chase  was  done 

He  reel'd  and  was  stone-blind. 

And  still  there  's  something  in  the  world  25 

At  which  his  heart  rejoices ; 

For  when  the  chiming  hounds  are  out, 

He  dearly  loves  their  voices. 

But  oh  the  heavy  change  !  —  bereft 

Of  health,  strength,  friends,  and  kindred,  see !          30 


BOOK  FOURTH  269 

Old  Simon  to  the  world  is  left 

In  liveried  poverty  :  — 

His  master  's  dead,  and  no  one  now 

Dwells  in  the  Hall  of  Ivor ; 

Men,  dogs,  and  horses,  all  are  dead ;  5 

He  is  the  sole  survivor. 

And  he  is  lean  and  he  is  sick, 

His  body,  dwindled  and  awry, 

Rests  upon  ankles  swoln  and  thick ; 

His  legs  are  thin  and  dry.  10 

One  prop  he  has,  and  only  one,  — 

His  wife,  an  aged  woman, 

Lives  with  him,  near  the  waterfall, 

Upon  the  village  common. 

Beside  their  moss-grown  hut  of  clay,  15 

Not  twenty  paces  from  the  door, 

A  scrap  of  land  they  have,  but  they 

Are  poorest  of  the  poor. 

This  scrap  of  land  he  from  the  heath 

Inclosed  when  he  was  stronger ;  20 

But  what  to  them  avails  the  land 

Which  he  can  till  no  longer? 

Oft,  working  by  her  husband's  side, 

Ruth  does  what  Simon  cannot  do ; 

For  she,  with  scanty  cause  for  pride,  25 

Is  stouter  of  the  two. 

And,  though  you  with  your  utmost  skill 

From  labor  could  not  wean  them, 

'T  is  little,  very  little,  all 

That  they  can  do  between  them.  30 

Few  months  of  life  has  he  in  store 
As  he  to  you  will  tell, 
For  still,  the  more  he  works,  the  more 
Do  his  weak  ankles  swell. 


270  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

My  gentle  Reader,  I  perceive 
How  patiently  you  Ve  waited, 
And  now  I  fear  that  you  expect 
Some  tale  will  be  related. 

O  Reader !  had  you  in  your  mind  5 

Such  stores  as  silent  thought  can  bring, 

0  gentle  Reader !  you  would  find 
A  tale  in  everything. 

What  more  I  have  to  say  is  short, 

And  you  must  kindly  take  it :  ic 

It  is  no  tale ;  but,  should  you  think, 

Perhaps  a  tale  you  '11  make  it. 

One  summer  day  I  chanced  to  see 

This  old  Man  doing  all  he  could 

To  unearth  the  root  of  an  old  tree,  15 

A  stump  of  rotten  wood. 

The  mattock  totter' d  in  his  hand ; 

So  vain  was  his  endeavor 

That  at  the  root  of  the  old  tree 

He  might  have  work'd  forever.  20 

"  You  're  overtask'd,  good  Simon  Lee, 
Give  me  your  tool,"  to  him  I  said ; 
And  at  the  word  right  gladly  he 
Received  my  proffer'd  aid. 

1  struck,  and  with  a  single  blow  25 
The  tangled  root  I  sever'd, 

At  which  the  poor  old  man  so  long 
And  vainly  had  endeavor'd. 

The  tears  into  his  eyes  were  brought, 

And  thanks  and  praises  seem'd  to  run  30 

So  fast  out  of  his  heart,  I  thought 

They  never  would  have  done. 


BOOK  FOURTH  271 

—  I  Ve  heard  of  hearts  unkind,  kind  deeds 
With  coldness  still  returning ; 
Alas !  the  gratitude  of  men 
Hath  oftener  left  me  mourning. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCLXIV 
THE  OLD  FAMILIAR  FACES 

I  have  had  playmates,  I  have  had  companions,  5 

In  my  days  of  childhood,  in  my  joyful  school-days : 
All,  all  are  gone,  the  old  familiar  faces. 

I  have  been  laughing,  I  have  been  carousing, 

Drinking  late,  sitting  late,  with  my  bosom  cronies; 

All,  all  are  gone,  the  old  familiar  faces.  10 

I  loved  a  Love  once,  fairest  among  women : 
Closed  are  her  doors  on  me,  I  must  not  see  her  — 
All,  all  are  gone,  the  old  familiar  faces. 

I  have  a  friend,  a  kinder  friend  has  no  man : 

Like  an  ingrate,  I  left  my  friend  abruptly ;  1 5 

Left  him,  to  muse  on  the  old  familiar  faces. 

Ghostlike  I  paced  round  the  haunts  of  my  childhood, 
Earth  seem'd  a  desert  I  was  bound  to  traverse, 
Seeking  to  find  the  old  familiar  faces. 

Friend  of  my  bosom,  thou  more  than  a  brother,  20 

Why  wert  not  thou  born  in  my  father's  dwelling  ? 
So  might  we  talk  of  the  old  familiar  faces, 

How  some  they  have  died,  and  some  they  have  left  me, 
And  some  are  taken  from  me ;  all  are  departed ; 
All,  all  are  gone,  the  old  familiar  faces.  25 

C.  Lamb 


272  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCLXV 
THE  JOURNEY  ONWARDS 

As  slow  our  ship  her  foamy  track 

Against  the  wind  was  cleaving, 
Her  trembling  pennant  still  look'd  back 

To  that  dear  isle  't  was  leaving. 
So  loth  we  part  from  all  we  love,  5 

From  all  the  links  that  bind  us ; 
So  turn  our  hearts,  as  on  we  rove, 

To  those  we  've  left  behind  us  ! 

When,  round  the  bowl,  of  vanish'd  years 

We  talk  with  joyous  seeming  —  10 

With  smiles  that  might  as  well  be  tears, 

So  faint,  so  sad  their  beaming ; 
While  memory  brings  us  back  again 

Each  early  tie  that  twined  us, 
Oh,  sweet 's  the  cup  that  circles  then  1 5 

To  those  we  Ve  left  behind  us ! 

And  when,  in  other  climes,  we  meet 

Some  isle  or  vale  enchanting, 
Where  all  looks  flowery,  wild,  and  sweet, 

And  naught  but  love  is  wanting ;  20 

We  think  how  great  had  been  our  bliss 

If  Heaven  had  but  assign'd  us 
To  live  and  die  in  scenes  like  this, 

With  some  we  've  left  behind  us  ! 

As  travelers  oft  look  back  at  eve  25 

When  eastward  darkly  going, 
To  gaze  upon  that  light  they  leave 

Still  faint  behind  them  glowing,  — 
So,  when  the  close  of  pleasure's  day 

To  gloom  hath  near  consign'd  us,  30 

We  turn  to  catch  one  fading  ray 

Of  joy  that 's  left  behind  us. 

T.  Moore 


BOOK  FOURTH  273 

CCLXVI 
YOUTH  AND  AGE 

There  's  not  a  joy  the  world  can  give  like  that  it  takes  away 
When  the  glow  of  early  thought  declines  in  feeling's  dull  decay ; 
'T  is  not  on  youth's  smooth  cheek  the  blush  alone,  which  fades 

so  fast, 
But  the  tender  bloom  of  heart  is  gone,  ere  youth  itself  be  past. 

Then  the  few  whose  spirits  float  above  the  wreck  of  happiness       5 
Are  driven  o'er  the  shoals  of  guilt,  or  ocean  of  excess : 
The  magnet  of  their  course  is  gone,  or  only  points  in  vain 
The  shore  to  which  their  shiver'd  sail  shall  never  stretch  again. 

Then  the  mortal  coldness  of  the  soul  like  death  itself  comes  down ; 
It  cannot  feel  for  others'  woes,  it  dare  not  dream  its  own ;  10 

That  heavy  chill  has  frozen  o'er  the  fountain  of  our  tears, 
And  though  the  eye  may  sparkle  still,  't  is  where  the  ice  appears. 

Though  wit  may  flash  from  fluent  lips,  and  mirth  distract  the 

breast, 
Through  midnight  hours  that  yield  no  more  their  former  hope 

of  rest ; 

'T  is  but  as  ivy  leaves  around  the  ruin'd  turret  wreathe,  15 

All  green  and  wildly  fresh  without,  but  worn  and  gray  beneath. 

Oh  could  I  feel  as  I  have  felt,  or  be  what  I  have  been, 

Or  weep  as  I  could  once  have  wept  o'er  many  a  vanish'd  scene,  — 

As  springs  in  deserts  found  seem  sweet,  all  brackish  though 

they  be, 
So  midst  the  wither'd  waste  of  life,  those  tears  would  flow  to  me !    20 

Lord  Byron 
CCLXVII 
A  LESSON 

There  is  a  Flower,  the  lesser  Celandine, 
That  shrinks  like  many  more  from  cold  and  rain, 
And  the  first  moment  that  the  sun  may  shine, 
Bright  as  the  sun  himself,  't  is  out  again ! 


274  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

When  hailstones  have  been  falling,  swarm  on  swarm 
Or  blasts  the  green  field  and  the  trees  distrest, 
Oft  have  I  seen  it  muffled  up  from  harm 
In  close  self-shelter,  like  a  thing  at  rest. 

But  lately,  one  rough  day,  this  Flower  I  past,  5 

And  recognized  it,  though  an  alter'd  form, 
Now  standing  forth  an  offering  to  the  blast, 
And  buffeted  at  will  by  rain  and  storm. 

I  stopp'd  and  said,  with  inly-mutter'd  voice, 

"It  doth  not  love  the  shower,  nor  seek  the  cold;  10 

This  neither  is  its  courage  nor  its  choice, 

But  its  necessity  in  being  old. 

"  The  sunshine  may  not  cheer  it,  nor  the  dew ; 

It  cannot  help  itself  in  its  decay ; 

Stiff  in  its  members,  wither'd,  changed  of  hue,"  —  15 

And,  in  my  spleen,  I  smiled  that  it  was  gray. 

To  be  a  prodigal's  favorite  —  then,  worse  truth, 
A  miser's  pensioner  —  behold  our  lot ! 
O  Man !  that  from  thy  fair  and  shining  youth 
Age  might  but  take  the  things  Youth  needed  not !  20 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCLXVIII 
PAST  AND  PRESENT 

I  remember,  I  remember 

The  house  where  I  was  born, 

The  little  window  where  the  sun 

Came  peeping  in  at  morn ; 

He  never  came  a  wink  too  soon  25 

Nor  brought  too  long  a  day ; 

But  now,  I  often  wish  the  night 

Had  borne  my  breath  away. 


BOOK  FOURTH  275 

I  remember,  I  remember 

The  roses,  red  and  white, 

The  violets,  and  the  lily  cups  — 

Those  flowers  made  of  light ! 

The  lilacs  where  the  robin  built,  5 

And  where  my  brother  set 

The  laburnum  on  his  birthday,  — 

The  tree  is  living  yet. 

I  remember,  I  remember 

Where  I  was  used  to  swing,  10 

And  thought  the  air  must  rush  as  fresh 

To  swallows  on  the  wing ; 

My  spirit  flew  in  feathers  then 

That  is  so  heavy  now, 

And  summer  pools  could  hardly  cool  15 

The  fever  on  my  brow. 

I  remember,  I  remember 

The  fir  trees  dark  and  high ; 

I  used  to  think  their  slender  tops 

Were  close  against  the  sky :  20 

It  was  a  childish  ignorance, 

But  now  't  is  little  joy 

To  know  I  'm  farther  off  from  Heaven 

Than  when  I  was  a  boy. 

T.  Hood 

CCLXIX 
THE  LIGHT  OF  OTHER  DAYS 

Oft  in  the  stilly  night  25 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Fond  Memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me : 
The  smiles,  the  tears 
Of  boyhood's  years,  30 


276  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  words  of  love  then  spoken ; 
The  eyes  that  shone, 
Now  dimm'd  and  gone, 
The  cheerful  hearts  now  broken ! 
Thus  in  the  stilly  night  5 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Sad  Memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me. 

When  I  remember  all 

The  friends  so  link'd  together  10 

I  Ve  seen  around  me  fall 

Like  leaves  in  wintry  weather, 
I  feel  like  one 
Who  treads  alone 

Some  banquet  hall  deserted,  15 

Whose  lights  are  fled, 
Whose  garlands  dead, 
And  all  but  he  departed  ! 
Thus  in  the  stilly  night 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me,  20 

Sad  Memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me. 

T.  Moore 

CCLXX 
STANZAS  WRITTEN  IN  DEJECTION  NEAR  NAPLES 

The  sun  is  warm,  the  sky  is  clear, 
The  waves  are  dancing  fast  and  bright, 
Blue  isles  and  snowy  mountains  wear  25 

The  purple  noon's  transparent  might : 
The  breath  of  the  moist  earth  is  light 
Around  its  unexpanded  buds ; 
Like  many  a  voice  of  one  delight  — 
The  winds',  the  birds',  the  ocean-floods'  —  30 

The  city's  voice  itself  is  soft  like  Solitude's. 


BOOK  FOURTH  277 

I  see  the  deep's  untrampled  floor 
With  green  and  purple  seaweeds  strown ; 
I  see  the  waves  upon  the  shore 
Like  light  dissolved  in  star  showers  thrown : 
I  sit  upon  the  sands  alone ;  5 

The  lightning  of  the  noontide  ocean 
Is  flashing  round  me,  and  a  tone 
Arises  from  its  measured  motion  — 
How  sweet !  did  any  heart  now  share  in  my  emotion. 

Alas  !  I  have  nor  hope  nor  health,  10 

Nor  peace  within  nor  calm  around, 
Nor  that  content,  surpassing  wealth, 
The  sage  in  meditation  found, 
And  walk'd  with  inward  glory  crown'd  — 
Nor  fame,  nor  power,  nor  love,  nor  leisure  ;  1 5 

Others  I  see  whom  these  surround  — 
Smiling  they  live,  and  call  life  pleasure ; 
To  me  that  cup  has  been  dealt  in  another  measure. 

Yet  now  despair  itself  is  mild 

Even  as  the  winds  and  waters  are ;  20 

I  could  lie  down  like  a  tired  child, 
And  weep  away  the  life  of  care 
Which  I  have  borne,  and  yet  must  bear,  — 
Till  death  like  sleep  might  steal  on  me, 
And  I  might  feel  in  the  warm  air  25 

My  cheek  grow  cold,  and  hear  the  sea 
Breathe  o'er  my  dying  brain  its  last  monotony. 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCLXXI 
THE   SCHOLAR 

My  days  among  the  Dead  are  past; 

Around  me  I  behold, 

Where'er  these  casual  eyes  are  cast,  30 

The  mighty  minds  of  old : 


278  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

My  never-failing  friends  are  they, 
With  whom  I  converse  day  by  day. 

With  them  I  take  delight  in  weal 

And  seek  relief  in  woe ; 

And  while  I  understand  and  feel  5 

How  much  to  them  I  owe, 

My  cheeks  have  often  been  bedew'd 

With  tears  of  thoughtful  gratitude. 

My  thoughts  are  with  the  Dead;  with  them 

I  live  in  long-past  years,  10 

Their  virtues  love,  their  faults  condemn, 

Partake  their  hopes  and  fears, 

And  from  their  lessons  seek  and  find 

Instruction  with  an  humble  mind. 

My  hopes  are  with  the  Dead;  anon  15 

My  place  with  them  will  be, 
And  I  with  them  shall  travel  on 
Through  all  Futurity ; 
Yet  leaving  here  a  name,  I  trust, 
That  will  not  perish  in  the  dust.  20 

R.  Southey 

CCLXXII 
THE  MERMAID  TAVERN 

Souls  of  Poets  dead  and  gone, 

What  Elysium  have  ye  known, 

Happy  field  or  mossy  cavern, 

Choicer  than  the  Mermaid  Tavern? 

Have  ye  tippled  drink  more  fine  25 

Than  mine  host's  Canary  wine? 

Or  are  fruits  of  Paradise 

Sweeter  than  those  dainty  pies 

Of  venison  ?  O  generous  food ! 

Dressed  as  though  bold  Robin  Hood  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  279 

Would,  with  his  Maid  Marian, 
Sup  and  bowse  from  horn  and  can. 

I  have  heard  that  on  a  day 

Mine  host's  signboard  flew  away 

Nobody  knew  whither,  till  5 

An  astrologer's  old  quill 

To  a  sheepskin  gave  the  story, 

Said  he  saw  you  in  your  glory, 

Underneath  a  new-old  sign 

Sipping  beverage  divine,  10 

And  pledging  with  contented  smack 

The  Mermaid  in  the  Zodiac. 

Souls  of  Poets  dead  and  gone, 

What  Elysium  have  ye  known, 

Happy  field  or  mossy  cavern,  15 

Choicer  than  the  Mermaid  Tavern  ? 

/.  Keats 

CCLXXIII 
THE  PRIDE  OF  YOUTH 

Proud  Maisie  is  in  the  wood, 

Walking  so  early ; 
Sweet  Robin  sits  on  the  bush, 

Singing  so  rarely.  20 

"  Tell  me,  thou  bonny  bird, 
When  shall  I  marry  me  ?  " 

—  "  When  six  braw  gentlemen 
Kirkward  shall  carry  ye." 

"  Who  makes  the  bridal  bed,  25 

Birdie  say  truly  ?  " 

—  "  The  gray-headed  sexton 
That  delves  the  grave  duly. 


28o  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

"  The  glowworm  o'er  grave  and  stone 

Shall  light  thee  steady ; 
The  owl  from  the  steeple  sing 

Welcome,  proud  lady." 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCLXXIV 
THE  BRIDGE  OF  SIGHS 

One  more  Unfortunate,  5 

Weary  of  breath, 

Rashly  importunate, 

Gone  to  her  death ! 

Take  her  up  tenderly, 

Lift  her  with  care ;  10 

Fashion'd  so  slenderly, 

Young,  and  so  fair ! 

Look  at  her  garments 

Clinging  like  cerements ; 

Whilst  the  wave  constantly  15 

Drips  from  her  clothing ; 

Take  her  up  instantly, 

Loving,  not  loathing. 

Touch  her  not  scornfully, 

Think  of  her  mournfully,  20 

Gently  and  humanly ; 

Not  of  the  stains  of  her  — 

All  that  remains  of  her 

Now  is  pure  womanly. 

Make  no  deep  scrutiny  25 

Into  her  mutiny 

Rash  and  undutiful : 

Past  all  dishonor, 

Death  has  left  on  her 

Only  the  beautiful.  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  281 

Still,  for  all  slips  of  hers, 
One  of  Eve's  family  — 
Wipe  those  poor  lips  of  hers 
Oozing  so  clammily. 

Loop  up  her  tresses  5 

Escaped  from  the  comb, 
Her  fair  auburn  tresses ; 
Whilst  wonderment  guesses 
Where  was  her  home  ? 

Who  was  her  father?  ™ 

Who  was  her  mother  ? 

Had  she  a  sister? 

Had  she  a  brother? 

Or  was  there  a  dearer  one 

Still,  and  a  nearer  one  *5 

Yet,  than  all  other? 

Alas !  for  the  rarity 

Of  Christian  charity 

Under  the  sun ! 

Oh !  it  was  pitiful !  20 

Near  a  whole  city  full, 

Home  she  had  none. 

Sisterly,  brotherly, 

Fatherly,  motherly 

Feelings  had  changed :  25 

Love,  by  harsh  evidence, 

Thrown  from  its  eminence ; 

Even  God's  providence 

Seeming  estranged. 

Where  the  lamps  quiver  3° 

So  far  in  the  river, 

With  many  a  light 

From  window  and  casement, 


282  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

From  garret  to  basement, 
She  stood  with  amazement, 
Houseless  by  night. 

The  bleak  wind  of  March 
Made  her  tremble  and  shiver 
But  not  the  dark  arch, 
Or  the  black  flowing  river : 
Mad  from  life's  history, 
Glad  to  death's  mystery 
Swift  to  be  hurl'd  — 
Anywhere,  anywhere 
Out  of  the  world ! 


In  she  plunged  boldly, 

No  matter  how  coldly 

The  rough  river  ran,  —  15 

Over  the  brink  of  it, 

Picture  it  —  think  of  it, 

Dissolute  Man ! 

Lave  in  it,  drink  of  it, 

Then,  if  you  can !  20 

Take  her  up  tenderly, 
Lift  her  with  care  ; 
Fashion'd  so  slenderly, 
Young,  and  so  fair ! 

Ere  her  limbs  frigidly  25 

Stiffen  too  rigidly, 

Decently,  kindly, 

Smooth  and  compose  them, 

And  her  eyes,  close  them, 

Staring  so  blindly  !  30 

Dreadfully  staring 
Thro'  muddy  impurity, 
As  when  with  the  daring 


BOOK  FOURTH  283 

Last  look  of  despairing 
Fix'd  on  futurity. 

Perishing  gloomily, 

Spurr'd  by  contumely, 

Cold  inhumanity,  5 

Burning  insanity, 

Into  her  rest. 

Cross  her  hands  humbly 

As  if  praying  dumbly, 

Over  her  breast !  10 

Owning  her  weakness, 
Her  evil  behavior, 
And  leaving,  with  meekness, 
Her  sins  to  her  Saviour. 

T.  Hood 
CCLXXV 

ELEGY 

Oh  snatch'd  away  in  beauty's  bloom  !  1 5 

On  thee  shall  press  no  ponderous  tomb ; 
But  on  thy  turf  shall  roses  rear 
Their  leaves,  the  earliest  of  the  year, 
And  the  wild  cypress  wave  in  tender  gloom : 

And  oft  by  yon  blue  gushing  stream  20 

Shall  Sorrow  lean  her  drooping  head, 
And  feed  deep  thought  with  many  a  dream, 
And  lingering  pause  and  lightly  tread ; 
Fond  wretch  !  as  if  her  step  disturb'd  the  dead ! 

Away !  we  know  that  tears  are  vain,  25 

That  Death  nor  heeds  nor  hears  distress : 
Will  this  unteach  us  to  complain  ? 
Or  make  one  mourner  weep  the  less  ? 
And  thou,  who  tell'st  me  to  forget, 

Thy  looks  are  wan,  thine  eyes  are  wet.  30 

Lord  Byron 


284  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCLXXVI 
HESTER 

When  maidens  such  as  Hester  die 
Their  place  ye  may  not  well  supply, 
Though  ye  among  a  thousand  try 

With  vain  endeavor. 

A  month  or  more  hath  she  been  dead,  5 

Yet  cannot  I  by  force  be  led 
To  think  upon  the  wormy  bed 

And  her  together. 

A  springy  motion  in  her  gait, 

A  rising  step,  did  indicate  10 

Of  pride  and  joy  no  common  rate 

That  flush'd  her  spirit : 
I  know  not  by  what  name  beside 
I  shall  it  call :  if  't  was  not  pride, 
It  was  a  joy  to  that  allied  15 

She  did  inherit. 

Her  parents  held  the  Quaker  rule, 
Which  doth  the  human  feeling  cool ; 
But  she  was  train'd  in  Nature's  school, 

Nature  had  blest  her.  20 

A  waking  eye,  a  prying  mind, 
A  heart  that  stirs,  is  hard  to  bind ; 
A  hawk's  keen  sight  ye  cannot  blind, 

Ye  could  not  Hester. 

My  sprightly  neighbor !  gone  before  25 

To  that  unknown  and  silent  shore, 
Shall  we  not  meet,  as  heretofore 

Some  summer  morning  — 
When  from  thy  cheerful  eyes  a  ray 
Hath  struck  a  bliss  upon  the  day,  30 

A  bliss  that  would  not  go  away, 

A  sweet  forewarning  ? 

C.  Lamb 


BOOK  FOURTH  285 

CCLXXVII 
TO  MARY 

If  I  had  thought  thou  couldst  have  died, 

I  might  not  weep  for  thee ; 
But  I  forgot,  when  by  thy  side, 

That  thou  couldst  mortal  be : 
It  never  through  my  mind  had  past  5 

The  time  would  e'er  be  o'er, 
And  I  on  thee  should  look  my  last, 

And  thou  shouldst  smile  no  more ! 

And  still  upon  that  face  I  look, 

And  think  't  will  smile  again ;  10 

And  still  the  thought  I  will  not  brook 

That  I  must  look  in  vain  ! 
But  when  I  speak  —  thou  dost  not  say 

What  thou  ne'er  left'st  unsaid ; 
And  now  I  feel,  as  well  I  may,  15 

Sweet  Mary  !  thou  art  dead ! 

If  thou  wouldst  stay,  e'en  as  thou  art, 

All  cold  and  all  serene  — 
I  still  might  press  thy  silent  heart, 

And  where  thy  smiles  have  been.  20 

While  e'en  thy  chill,  bleak  corpse  I  have 

Thou  seemest  still  mine  own ; 
But  there  I  lay  thee  in  thy  grave  — 

And  I  am  now  alone ! 

I  do  not  think,  where'er  thou  art,  25 

Thou  hast  forgotten  me ; 
And  I,  perhaps,  may  soothe  this  heart, 

In  thinking  too  of  thee  : 
Yet  there  was  round  thee  such  a  dawn 

Of  light  ne'er  seen  before,  30 

As  fancy  never  could  have  drawn, 

And  never  can  restore ! 

C.  Wolfe 


286  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCLXXVIII 

CORONACH 

He  is  gone  on  the  mountain, 

He  is  lost  to  the  forest, 
Like  a  summer-dried  fountain, 

When  our  need  was  the  sorest. 
The  font  reappearing  5 

From  the  raindrops  shall  borrow, 
But  to  us  comes  no  cheering, 

To  Duncan  no  morrow  ! 

The  hand  of  the  reaper 

Takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary,  10 

But  the  voice  of  the  weeper 

Wails  manhood  in  glory. 
The  autumn  winds  rushing 

Waft  the  leaves  that  are  searest, 
But  our  flower  was  in  flushing  15 

When  blighting  was  nearest. 

Fleet  foot  on  the  correi, 

Sage  counsel  in  cumber, 
Red  hand  in  the  foray, 

How  sound  is  thy  slumber !  20 

Like  the  dew  on  the  mountain, 

Like  the  foam  on  the  river, 
Like  the  bubble  on  the  fountain, 

Thou  art  gone ;  and  forever ! 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCLXXIX 
THE  DEATH  BED 

We  watch'd  her  breathing  thro'  the  night,  25 

Her  breathing  soft  and  low, 
As  in  her  breast  the  wave  of  life 

Kept  heaving  to  and  fro. 


BOOK  FOURTH  287 

So  silently  we  seem'd  to  speak, 

So  slowly  moved  about, 
As  we  had  lent  her  half  our  powers 

To  eke  her  living  out. 

Our  very  hopes  belied  our  fears,  5 

Our  fears  our  hopes  belied  — 
We  thought  her  dying  when  she  slept, 

And  sleeping  when  she  died. 

For  when  the  morn  came  dim  and  sad 

And  chill  with  early  showers,  10 

Her  quiet  eyelids  closed  —  she  had 

Another  morn  than  ours. 

r.  Hood 

CCLXXX 

AGNES 

I  saw  her  in  childhood  — 

A  bright,  gentle  thing, 
Like  the  dawn  of  the  morn,  15 

Or  the  dews  of  the  spring : 
The  daisies  and  harebells 

Her  playmates  all  day ; 
Herself  as  light-hearted 

And  artless  as  they.  20 

I  saw  her  again  — 

A  fair  girl  of  eighteen, 
Fresh  glittering  with  graces 

Of  mind  and  of  mien. 
Her  speech  was  all  music ;  25 

Like  moonlight  she  shone ; 
The  envy  of  many, 

The  glory  of  one. 

Years,  years  fleeted  over  — 

I  stood  at  her  foot :  30 


288  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  bud  had  grown  blossom, 

The  blossom  was  fruit. 
A  dignified  mother, 

Her  infant  she  bore ; 
And  look'd,  I  thought,  fairer  5 

Than  ever  before. 

I  saw  her  once  more  — 

'T  was  the  day  that  she  died ; 
Heaven's  light  was  around  her, 

And  God  at  her  side  ;  10 

No  wants  to  distress  her, 

No  fears  to  appall  — 
O  then,  I  felt,  then 

She  was  fairest  of  all ! 

H.  F.  Lyte 

CCLXXXI 
ROSABELLE 

O  listen,  listen,  ladies  gay !  15 

No  haughty  feat  of  arms  I  tell ; 
Soft  is  the  note,  and  sad  the  lay 

That  mourns  the  lovely  Rosabelle. 

"  Moor,  moor  the  barge,  ye  gallant  crew ! 

And,  gentle  ladye,  deign  to  stay !  20 

Rest  thee  in  Castle  Ravensheuch, 

Nor  tempt  the  stormy  firth  to-day. 

"  The  blackening  wave  is  edged  with  white ; 

To  inch  and  rock  the  sea  mews  fly ; 
The  fishers  have  heard  the  Water  Sprite,  25 

Whose  screams  forebode  that  wreck  is  nigh. 

"  Last  night  the  gifted  Seer  did  view 
A  wet  shroud  swathed  round  ladye  gay ; 

Then  stay  thee,  Fair,  in  Ravensheuch ; 

Why  cross  the  gloomy  firth  to-day  ?  "  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  289 

"  'T  is  not  because  Lord  Lindesay's  heir 

To-night  at  Roslin  leads  the  ball, 
But  that  my  ladye-mother  there 

Sits  lonely  in  her  castle  hall. 

"  'T  is  not  because  the  ring  they  ride,  5 

And  Lindesay  at  the  ring  rides  well, 
But  that  my  sire  the  wine  will  chide 

If  't  is  not  fill'd  by  Rosabelle." 

—  O'er  Roslin  all  that  dreary  night 

A  wondrous  blaze  was  seen  to  gleam ;  10 

'T  was  broader  than  the  watch-fire's  light, 

And  redder  than  the  bright  moonbeam. 

It  glared  on  Roslin's  castled  rock, 

It  ruddied  all  the  copse-wood  glen ; 
'T  was  seen  from  Dryden's  groves  of  oak,  1 5 

And  seen  from  cavern'd  Hawthornden. 

Seem'd  all  on  fire  that  chapel  proud 

Where  Roslin's  chiefs  uncoffin'd  lie, 
Each  Baron,  for  a  sable  shroud, 

Sheathed  in  his  iron  panoply.  20 

Seem'd  all  on  fire  within,  around, 

Deep  sacristy  and  altar's  pale ; 
Shone  every  pillar  foliage-bound, 

And  glimmer'd  all  the  dead  men's  mail. 

Blazed  battlement  and  pinnet  high,  25 

Blazed  every  rose-carved  buttress  fair  — 

So  still  they  blaze,  when  fate  is  nigh 
The  lordly  line  of  high  Saint  Clair. 

There  are  twenty  of  Roslin's  barons  bold  — 

Lie  buried  within  that  proud  chapelle ;  30 

Each  one  the  holy  vault  doth  hold  — 
But  the  sea  holds  lovely  Rosabelle. 


290  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  each  Saint  Clair  was  buried  there, 
With  candle,  with  book,  and  with  knell ; 

But  the  sea  caves  rung,  and  the  wild  winds  sung 
The  dirge  of  lovely  Rosabelle. 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCLXXXII 
ON  AN  INFANT  DYING  AS  SOON  AS  BORN 

I  saw  wherein  the  shroud  did  lurk  5 

A  curious  frame  of  Nature's  work ; 

A  flow'ret  crushed  in  the  bud, 

A  nameless  piece  of  Babyhood, 

Was  in  her  cradle-coffin  lying ; 

Extinct,  with  scarce  the  sense  of  dying  :  10 

So  soon  to  exchange  the  imprisoning  womb 

For  darker  closets  of  the  tomb  ! 

She  did  but  ope  an  eye,  and  put 

A  clear  beam  forth,  then  straight  up  shut 

For  the  long  dark :  ne'er  more  to  see  15 

Through  glasses  of  mortality. 

Riddle  of  destiny,  who  can  show 

What  thy  short  visit  meant,  or  know 

What  thy  errand  here  below  ? 

Shall  we  say,  that  Nature  blind  20 

Check'd  her  hand,  and  changed  her  mind 

Just  when  she  had  exactly  wrought 

A  finish'd  pattern  without  fault  ? 

Could  she  flag,  or  could  she  tire, 

Or  lack'd  she  the  Promethean  fire  25 

(With  her  nine  moons'  long  workings  sicken'd) 

That  should  thy  little  limbs  have  quicken'd  ? 

Limbs  so  firm,  they  seem'd  to  assure 

Life  of  health,  and  days  mature : 

Woman's  self  in  miniature  !  30 

Limbs  so  fair,  they  might  supply 

(Themselves  now  but  cold  imagery) 


BOOK  FOURTH  291 

The  sculptor  to  make  Beauty  by. 

Or  did  the  stern-eyed  Fate  descry 

That  babe  or  mother,  one  must  die ; 

So  in  mercy  left  the  stock 

And  cut  the  branch  ;  to  save  the  shock  5 

Of  young  years  widow'd,  and  the  pain 

When  Single  State  comes  back  again 

To  the  lone  man  who,  reft  of  wife, 

Thenceforward  drags  a  maime'd  life  ? 

The  economy  of  Heaven  is  dark,  10 

And  wisest  clerks  have  miss'd  the  mark 

Why  human  buds,  like  this,  should  fall, 

More  brief  than  fly  ephemeral 

That  has  his  day ;  while  shrivel'd  crones 

Stiffen  with  age  to  stocks  and  stones  ;  1 5 

And  crabbed  use  the  conscience  sears 

In  sinners  of  an  hundred  years. 

Mother's  prattle,  mother's  kiss, 

Baby  fond,  thou  ne'er  wilt  miss : 

Rites,  which  custom  does  impose,  20 

Silver  bells,  and  baby  clothes ; 

Coral  redder  than  those  lips 

Which  pale  death  did  late  eclipse ; 

Music  framed  for  infants'  glee, 

Whistle  never  tuned  for  thee ;  25 

Though  thou  want'st  not,  thou  shalt  have  them, 

Loving  hearts  were  they  which  gave  them. 

Let  not  one  be  missing  ;  nurse, 

See  them  laid  upon  the  hearse 

Of  infant  slain  by  doom  perverse.  30 

Why  should  kings  and  nobles  have 

Pictured  trophies  to  their  grave, 

And  we,  churls,  to  thee  deny 

Thy  pretty  toys  with  thee  to  lie  — 

A  more  harmless  vanity  ?  35 

C.  Lamb 


292  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCLXXXIII 
IN  MEMORIAM 

A  child  's  a  plaything  for  an  hour ; 

Its  pretty  tricks  we  try 
For  that  or  for  a  longer  space,  — 

Then  tire,  and  lay  it  by. 

But  I  knew  one  that  to  itself  5 

All  seasons  could  control ; 
That  would  have  mock'd  the  sense  of  pain 

Out  of  a  grieve'd  soul. 

Thou  straggler  into  loving  arms, 

Young  climber  up  of  knees,  10 

When  I  forget  thy  thousand  ways 
Then  life  and  all  shall  cease  ! 

M.  Lamb 
CCLXXXIV 
THE  AFFLICTION  OF  MARGARET 

Where  art  thou,  my  beloved  Son, 

Where  art  thou,  worse  to  me  than  dead? 

Oh  find  me,  prosperous  or  undone  !  1 5 

Or  if  the  grave  be  now  thy  bed, 

Why  am  I  ignorant  of  the  same 

That  I  may  rest ;  and  neither  blame 

Nor  sorrow  may  attend  thy  name  ? 

Seven  years,  alas  !  to  have  received  20 

No  tidings  of  an  only  child  — 

To  have  despair'd,  have  hoped,  believed, 

And  been  forever  more  beguiled,  — 

Sometimes  with  thoughts  of  very  bliss  ! 

I  catch  at  them,  and  then  I  miss  ;  2  5 

Was  ever  darkness  like  to  this  ? 

He  was  among  the  prime  in  worth, 
An  object  beauteous  to  behold; 


BOOK  FOURTH  293 

Well  born,  well  bred ;  I  sent  him  forth 

Ingenuous,  innocent,  and  bold : 

If  things  ensued  that  wanted  grace 

As  hath  been  said,  they  were  not  base ; 

And  never  blush  was  on  my  face.  5 

Ah  !  little  doth  the  young  one  dream 

When  full  of  play  and  childish  cares, 

What  power  is  in  his  wildest  scream 

Heard  by  his  mother  unawares  ! 

He  knows  it  not,  he  cannot  guess ;  10 

Years  to  a  mother  bring  distress ; 

But  do  not  make  her  love  the  less. 

Neglect  me !  no,  I  suffer'd  long 

From  that  ill  thought ;  and  being  blind 

Said,  "  Pride  shall  help  me  in  my  wrong:  15 

Kind  mother  have  I  been,  as  kind 

As  ever  breathed : "  and  that  is  true ; 

I  Ve  wet  my  path  with  tears  like  dew, 

Weeping  for  him  when  no  one  knew. 

My  Son,  if  thou  be  humbled,  poor,  20 

Hopeless  of  honor  and  of  gain, 

Oh !  do  not  dread  thy  mother's  door ; 

Think  not  of  me  with  grief  and  pain : 

I  now  can  see  with  better  eyes ; 

And  worldly  grandeur  I  despise  25 

And  fortune  with  her  gifts  and  lies. 

Alas !  the  fowls  of  heaven  have  wings, 

And  blasts  of  heaven  will  aid  their  flight ; 

They  mount  —  how  short  a  voyage  brings 

The  wanderers  back  to  their  delight !  30 

Chains  tie  us  down  by  land  and  sea ; 

And  wishes,  vain  as  mine,  may  be 

All  that  is  left  to  comfort  thee. 


294  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Perhaps  some  dungeon  hears  thee  groan 

Maim'd,  mangled  by  inhuman  men ; 

Or  thou  upon  a  desert  thrown 

Inheritest  the  lion's  den ; 

Or  hast  been  summon'd  to  the  deep  5 

Thou,  thou,  and  all  thy  mates  to  keep 

An  incommunicable  sleep. 

I  look  for  ghosts :  but  none  will  force 

Their  way  to  me ;  't  is  falsely  said 

That  there  was  ever  intercourse  1 2 

Between  the  living  and  the  dead ; 

For  surely  then  I  should  have  sight 

Of  him  I  wait  for  day  and  night 

With  love  and  longings  infinite. 

My  apprehensions  come  in  crowds ;  1 5 

I  dread  the  rustling  of  the  grass ; 

The  very  shadows  of  the  clouds 

Have  power  to  shake  me  as  they  pass : 

I  question  things,  and  do  not  find 

One  that  will  answer  to  my  mind ;  20 

And  all  the  world  appears  unkind. 

Beyond  participation  lie 

My  troubles,  and  beyond  relief : 

If  any  chance  to  heave  a  sigh 

They  pity  me,  and  not  my  grief.  25 

Then  come  to  me,  my  Son,  or  send 

Some  tidings  that  my  woes  may  end ! 

I  have  no  bther  earthly  friend. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCLXXXV 

HUNTING  SONG 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay, 

On  the  mountain  dawns  the  day ;  30 

All  the  jolly  chase  is  here 

With  hawk  and  horse  and  hunting  spear ; 


BOOK  FOURTH  295 

Hounds  are  in  their  couples  yelling, 
Hawks  are  whistling,  horns  are  knelling, 
Merrily,  merrily  mingle  they, 
"  Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay." 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay,  5 

The  mist  has  left  the  mountain  gray, 

Springlets  in  the  dawn  are  steaming, 

Diamonds  on  the  brake  are  gleaming ; 

And  foresters  have  busy  been 

To  track  the  buck  in  thicket  green ;  10 

Now  we  come  to  chant  our  lay, 

ft  Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay." 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay, 

To  the  greenwood  haste  away, 

We  can  show  you  where  he  lies,  15 

Fleet  of  foot  and  tall  of  size ; 

We  can  show  the  marks  he  made 

When  'gainst  the  oak  his  antlers  fray'd ; 

You  shall  see  him  brought  to  bay ; 

11  Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay."  20 

Louder,  louder  chant  the  lay 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay ! 

Tell  them  youth  and  mirth  and  glee 

Run  a  course  as  well  as  we  ; 

Time,  stern  huntsman  !  who  can  balk,  25 

Stanch  as  hound  and  fleet  as  hawk ; 

Think  of  this,  and  rise  with  day, 

Gentle  lords  and  ladies  gay  ! 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCLXXXVI 

-C 

TO  THE  SKYLARK 

Ethereal  minstrel !  pilgrim  of  the  sky ! 

Dost  thou  despise  the  earth  where  cares  abound  ?  30 

Or  while  the  wings  aspire,  are  heart  and  eye 


296  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Both  with  thy  nest  upon  the  dewy  ground  ? 
Thy  nest  which  thou  canst  drop  into  at  will, 
Those  quivering  wings  composed,  that  music  still ! 

To  the  last  point  of  vision,  and  beyond 

Mount,  daring  warbler  !  —  that  love-prompted  strain        5 

—  'Twixt  thee  and  thine  a  never-failing  bond  — 

Thrills  not  the  less  the  bosom  of  the  plain : 

Yet  might' st  thou  seem,  proud  privilege  !  to  sing 

All  independent  of  the  leafy  Spring. 

Leave  to  the  nightingale  her  shady  wood ;  10 

A  privacy  of  glorious  light  is  thine, 
Whence  thou  dost  pour  upon  the  world  a  flood 
Of  harmony,  with  instinct  more  divine ; 
Type  of  the  wise,  who  soar,  but  never  roam  — 
True  to  the  kindred  points  of  Heaven  and  Home.  1 5 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCLXXXVII 
TO  A  SKYLARK 

Hail  to  thee,  blithe  Spirit ! 

Bird  thou  never  wert, 
That  from  heaven,  or  near  it 

Pourest  thy  full  heart 
In  profuse  strains  of  unpremeditated  art.  20 

Higher  still  and  higher 

From  the  earth  thou  springest, 
Like  a  cloud  of  fire, 

The  blue  deep  thou  wingest, 
And  singing  still  dost  soar,  and  soaring  ever  singest.        25 

In  the  golden  lightning 

Of  the  sunken  sun 
O'er  which  clouds  are  brightening, 

Thou  dost  float  and  run, 
Like  an  unbodied  joy  whose  race  is  just  begun.  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  297 

The  pale  purple  even 

Melts  around  thy  flight ; 
Like  a  star  of  heaven 

In  the  broad  daylight 
Thou  art  unseen,  but  yet  I  hear  thy  shrill  delight :       5 

Keen  as  are  the  arrows 
Of  that  silver  sphere, 
Whose  intense  lamp  narrows 

In  the  white  dawn  clear 
Until  we  hardly  see,  we  feel  that  it  is  there.  10 

All  the  earth  and  air 

With  thy  voice  is  loud, 
As,  when  night  is  bare, 

From  one  lonely  cloud 
The  moon  rains  out  her  beams,  and  heaven  is  over- 

flow'd.  1 5 

What  thou  art  we  know  not ; 

What  is  most  like  thee  ? 
From  rainbow  clouds  there  flow  not 

Drops  so  bright  to  see 
As  from  thy  presence  showers  a  rain  of  melody ;  —     20 

Like  a  poet  hidden 

In  the  light  of  thought, 
Singing  hymns  unbidden, 

Till  the  world  is  wrought 
To  sympathy  with  hopes  and  fears  it  heeded  not :        25 

Like  a  high-born  maiden 

In  a  palace  tower, 
Soothing  her  love-laden 

Soul  in  secret  hour 
With  music  sweet  as  love,  which  overflows  her 

bower :  30 


298  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Like  a  glowworm  golden 

In  a  dell  of  dew, 
Scattering  unbeholden 

Its  aerial  hue 
Among  the  flowers  and  grass,  which  screen  it  from 

the  view :  5 

Like  a  rose  embower'd 

In  its  own  green  leaves, 
By  warm  winds  deflower'd, 

Till  the  scent  it  gives 
Makes  faint  with  too  much  sweet  these  heavy-winged 

thieves.  10 

Sound  of  vernal  showers 
On  the  twinkling  grass, 
Rain-awaken'd  flowers, 

All  that  ever  was 
Joyous,  and  clear,  and  fresh,  thy  music  doth  surpass.  1 5 

Teach  us,  sprite  or  bird, 

What  sweet  thoughts  are  thine : 
I  have  never  heard 

Praise  of  love  or  wine 
That  panted  forth  a  flood  of  rapture  so  divine.  20 

Chorus  hymeneal 

Or  triumphal  chaunt 
Match'd  with  thine,  would  be  all 

But  an  empty  vaunt  — 
A  thing  wherein  we  feel  there  is  some  hidden  want.    25 

What  objects  are  the  fountains 

Of  thy  happy  strain  ? 
What  fields,  or  waves,  or  mountains? 

What  shapes  of  sky  or  plain  ? 
What  love  of  thine  own  kind  ?  what  ignorance  of 

pain  ?  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  299 

With  thy  clear  keen  joyance 

Languor  cannot  be : 
Shadow  of  annoyance 

Never  came  near  thee  : 
Thou  lovest ;  but  ne'er  knew  love's  sad  satiety.  5 

Waking  or  asleep 

Thou  of  death  must  deem 
Things  more  true  and  deep 

Than  we  mortals  dream, 
Or  how  could  thy  notes  flow  in  such  a  crystal  stream  ?      10 

We  look  before  and  after, 

And  pine  for  what  is  not : 
Our  sincerest  laughter 

With  some  pain  is  fraught ; 
Our  sweetest  songs  are  those  that  tell  of  saddest 

thought.  1 5 

Yet  if  we  could  scorn 

Hate,  and  pride,  and  fear ; 
If  we  were  things  born 

Not  to  shed  a  tear, 
I  know  not  how  thy  joy  we  ever  should  come  near.          20 

Better  than  all  measures 

Of  delightful  sound, 
Better  than  all  treasures 

That  in  books  are  found, 
Thy  skill  to  poet  were,  thou  scorner  of  the  ground !         25 

Teach  me  half  the  gladness 

That  thy  brain  must  know, 
Such  harmonious  madness 

From  my  lips  would  flow, 

The  world  should  listen  then,  as  I  am  listening  now !      30 

P.  B.  Shelley 


300  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCLXXXVIII 

THE  GREEN  LINNET 

Beneath  these  fruit-tree  boughs  that  shed 

Their  snow-white  blossoms  on  my  head, 

With  brightest  sunshine  round  me  spread 

Of  Spring's  unclouded  weather, 

In  this  sequester'd  nook  how  sweet  5 

To  sit  upon  my  orchard  seat ! 

And  flowers  and  birds  once  more  to  greet, 

My  last  year's  friends  together. 

One  have  I  mark'd,  the  happiest  guest 

In  all  this  covert  of  the  blest:  10 

Hail  to  Thee,  far  above  the  rest 

In  joy  of  voice  and  pinion ! 

Thou,  Linnet !  in  thy  green  array 

Presiding  Spirit  here  to-day 

Dost  lead  the  revels  of  the  May ;  1 5 

And  this  is  thy  dominion. 

While  birds,  and  butterflies,  and  flowers, 

Make  all  one  band  of  paramours, 

Thou,  ranging  up  and  down  the  bowers, 

Art  sole  in  thy  employment ;  20 

A  Life,  a  Presence  like  the  air, 

Scattering  thy  gladness  without  care, 

Too  blest  with  any  one  to  pair ; 

Thyself  thy  own  enjoyment. 

Amid  yon  tuft  of  hazel  trees  25 

That  twinkle  to  the  gusty  breeze, 

Behold  him  perch'd  in  ecstasies 

Yet  seeming  still  to  hover ; 

There  !  where  the  flutter  of  his  wings 

Upon  his  back  and  body  flings  30 

Shadows  and  sunny  glimmerings, 

That  cover  him  all  over. 


BOOK  FOURTH  301 

My  dazzled  sight  he  oft  deceives  — 

A  brother  of  the  dancing  leaves ; 

Then  flits,  and  from  the  cottage  eaves 

Pours  forth  his  song  in  gushes ; 

As  if  by  that  exulting  strain  5 

He  mock'd  and  treated  with  disdain 

The  voiceless  Form  he  chose  to  feign, 

While  fluttering  in  the  bushes. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCLXXXIX 

TO  THE  CUCKOO 

0  blithe  newcomer !  I  have  heard, 

1  hear  thee  and  rejoice  :  10 

0  Cuckoo !  shall  I  call  thee  Bird, 
Or  but  a  wandering  Voice? 

While  I  am  lying  on  the  grass 

Thy  twofold  shout  I  hear ; 

From  hill  to  hill  it  seems  to  pass,  15 

At  once  far  off  and  near. 

Though  babbling  only  to  the  vale 

Of  sunshine  and  of  flowers, 

Thou  bringest  unto  me  a  tale 

Of  visionary  hours.  20 

Thrice  welcome,  darling  of  the  Spring ! 

Even  yet  thou  art  to  me 

No  bird,  but  an  invisible  thing, 

A  voice,  a  mystery ; 

The  same  whom  in  my  schoolboy  days  25 

1  listen'd  to  ;  that  Cry 

Which  made  me  look  a  thousand  ways 
In  bush,  and  tree,  and  sky. 

To  seek  thee  did  I  often  rove 

Through  woods  and  on  the  green ;  30 


302  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  thou  wert  still  a  hope,  a  love ; 
Still  long'd  for,  never  seen ! 

And  I  can  listen  to  thee  yet ; 

Can  lie  upon  the  plain 

And  listen,  till  I  do  beget  5 

That  golden  time  again. 

O  blesse'd  Bird !  the  earth  we  pace 
Again  appears  to  be 
An  unsubstantial,  faery  place, 
That  is  fit  home  for  Thee !  10 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCXC 
ODE  TO  A  NIGHTINGALE 

My  heart  aches,  and  a  drowsy  numbness  pains 

My  sense,  as  though  of  hemlock  I  had  drunk, 
Or  emptied  some  dull  opiate  to  the  drains 

One  minute  past,  and  Lethe-wards  had  sunk : 
'T  is  not  through  envy  of  thy  happy  lot,  15 

But  being  too  happy  in  thine  happiness,  — 
That  thou,  light-winged  Dryad  of  the  trees, 

In  some  melodious  plot 
Of  beechen  green,  and  shadows  numberless, 

Singest  of  summer  in  full-throated  ease.  20 

O,  for  a  draft  of  vintage !  that  hath  been 

Cool'd  a  long  age  in  the  deep-delved  earth, 
Tasting  of  Flora  and  the  country  green, 

Dance,  and  Provengal  song,  and  sunburned  mirth  ! 
O  for  a  beaker  full  of  the  warm  South,  25 

Full  of  the  true,  the  blushful  Hippocrene, 
With  beaded  bubbles  winking  at  the  brim, 

And  purple-stained  mouth ; 
That  I  might  drink,  and  leave  the  world  unseen, 

And  with  thee  fade  away  into  the  forest  dim :  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  303 

Fade  far  away,  dissolve,  and  quite  forget 

What  thou  among  the  leaves  hast  never  known, 
The  weariness,  the  fever,  and  the  fret 

Here,  where  men  sit  and  hear  each  other  groan ; 
Where  palsy  shakes  a  few,  sad,  last  gray  hairs,  5 

Where  youth  grows  pale,  and  specter- thin,  and  dies  ; 
Where  but  to  think  is  to  be  full  of  sorrow 

And  leaden-eyed  despairs ; 
Where  Beauty  cannot  keep  her  lustrous  eyes, 

Or  new  Love  pine  at  them  beyond  to-morrow.  10 

Away !  away !  for  I  will  fly  to  thee, 

Not  charioted  by  Bacchus  and  his  pards, 
But  on  the  viewless  wings  of  Poesy, 

Though  the  dull  brain  perplexes  and  retards : 
Already  with  thee  !  tender  is  the  night,  15 

And  haply  the  Queen-Moon  is  on  her  throne, 
Cluster'd  around  by  all  her  starry  Fays ; 

But  here  there  is  no  light, 
Save  what  from  heaven  is  with  the  breezes  blown 

Through  verdurous  glooms  and  winding  mossy  ways.   20 

I  cannot  see  what  flowers  are  at  my  feet, 

Nor  what  soft  incense  hangs  upon  the  boughs, 
But,  in  embalmed  darkness,  guess  each  sweet 

Wherewith  the  seasonable  month  endows 
The  grass,  the  thicket,  and  the  fruit-tree  wild ;  25 

White  hawthorn,  and  the  pastoral  eglantine ; 
Fast  fading  violets  cover 'd  up  in  leaves ; 

And  mid-May's  eldest  child, 
The  coming  musk-rose,  full  of  dewy  wine, 

The  murmurous  haunt  of  flies  on  summer  eves.  30 

Darkling  I  listen ;  and  for  many  a  time 

I  have  been  half  in  love  with  easeful  Death, 

CalPd  him  soft  names  in  many  a  muse'd  rhyme, 
To  take  into  the  air  my  quiet  breath ; 


304  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Now  more  than  ever  seems  it  rich  to  die, 
To  cease  upon  the  midnight  with  no  pain, 
While  thou  art  pouring  forth  thy  soul  abroad 

In  such  an  ecstasy ! 

Still  wouldst  thou  sing,  and  I  have  ears  in  vain  —  5 

To  thy  high  requiem  become  a  sod. 

Thou  wast  not  born  for  death,  immortal  Bird ! 

No  hungry  generations  tread  thee  down  ; 
The  voice  I  hear  this  passing  night  was  heard 

In  ancient  days  by  emperor  and  clown :  10 

Perhaps  the  selfsame  song  that  found  a  path 

Through  the  sad  heart  of  Ruth,  when,  sick  for  home, 
She  stood  in  tears  amid  the  alien  corn ; 

The  same  that  ofttimes  hath 

Charm'd  magic  casements,  opening  on  the  foam  1 5 

Of  perilous  seas,  in  faery  lands  forlorn. 

Forlorn !  the  very  word  is  like  a  bell 

To  toll  me  back  from  thee  to  my  sole  self ! 
Adieu  !  the  fancy  cannot  cheat  so  well 

As  she  is  famed  to  do,  deceiving  elf.  20 

Adieu  !  adieu  !  thy  plaintive  anthem  fades 
Past  the  near  meadows,  over  the  still  stream, 
Up  the  hillside ;  and  now  't  is  buried  deep 

In  the  next  valley  glades : 

Was  it  a  vision,  or  a  waking  dream?  25 

Fled  is  that  music :  —  Do  I  wake  or  sleep  ? 

/.  Keats 

CCXCI 
UPON  WESTMINSTER  BRIDGE,  SEPT.  3,  1802 

Earth  has  not  anything  to  show  more  fair : 

Dull  would  he  be  of  soul  who  could  pass  by 

A  sight  so  touching  in  its  majesty  : 

This  City  now  doth  like  a  garment  wear  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  305 

The  beauty  of  the  morning :  silent,  bare, 
Ships,  towers,  domes,  theaters,  and  temples  lie 
Open  unto  the  fields,  and  to  the  sky,  — 
All  bright  and  glittering  in  the  smokeless  air. 

Never  did  sun  more  beautifully  steep  5 

In  his  first  splendor  valley,  rock,  or  hill ; 
Ne'er  saw  I,  never  felt,  a  calm  so  deep ! 

The  river  glideth  at  its  own  sweet  will : 

Dear  God !  the  very  houses  seem  asleep  ; 

And  all  that  mighty  heart  is  lying  still !  10 

W.  Wordsworth 
CCXCII 

To  one  who  has  been  long  in  city  pent, 

'T  is  very  sweet  to  look  into  the  fair 

And  open  face  of  heaven,  —  to  breathe  a  prayer 

Full  in  the  smile  of  the  blue  firmament. 

Who  is  more  happy,  when,  with  heart's  content,  15 

Fatigued  he  sinks  into  some  pleasant  lair 
Of  wavy  grass,  and  reads  a  debonair 
And  gentle  tale  of  love  and  languishment  ? 

Returning  home  at  evening,  with  an  ear 

Catching  the  notes  of  Philomel,  —  an  eye  20 

Watching  the  sailing  cloudlet's  bright  career, 

He  mourns  that  day  so  soon  has  glided  by : 
E'en  like  the  passage  of  an  angel's  tear 
That  falls  through  the  clear  ether  silently. 

/.  Keats 
CCXCIII 
OZYMANDIAS  OF  EGYPT 

I  met  a  traveler  from  an  antique  land  25 

Who  said :  Two  vast  and  trunkless  legs  of  stone 
Stand  in  the  desert.    Near  them  on  the  sand, 
Half  sunk,  a  shatter'd  visage  lies,  whose  frown 


306  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  wrinkled  lip  and  sneer  of  cold  command 

Tell  that  its  sculptor  well  those  passions  read 

Which  yet  survive,  stamp'd  on  these  lifeless  things, 

The  hand  that  mock'd  them  and  the  heart  that  fed ; 

And  on  the  pedestal  these  words  appear :  5 

"  My  name  is  Ozymandias,  king  of  kings : 

Look  on  my  works,  ye  Mighty,  and  despair !  " 

Nothing  beside  remains.    Round  the  decay 

Of  that  colossal  wreck,  boundless  and  bare, 

The  lone  and  level  sands  stretch  far  away.  10 

P.  B.  Shelley 
CCXCIV 

COMPOSED  AT  NEIDPATH  CASTLE,  THE  PROPERTY 
OF  LORD  QUEENSBERRY,  1803 

Degenerate  Douglas  !  oh,  the  unworthy  lord ! 
Whom  mere  despite  of  heart  could  so  far  please 
And  love  of  havoc  (for  with  such  disease 
Fame  taxes  him),  that  he  could  send  forth  word 

To  level  with  the  dust  a  noble  horde,  15 

A  brotherhood  of  venerable  trees, 
Leaving  an  ancient  dome,  and  towers  like  these, 
Beggar'd  and  outraged  !  —  Many  hearts  deplored 

The  fate  of  those  old  trees ;  and  oft  with  pain 

The  traveler  at  this  day  will  stop  and  gaze  20 

On  wrongs,  which  Nature  scarcely  seems  to  heed : 

For  sheltered  places,  bosoms,  nooks,  and  bays, 
And  the  pure  mountains,  and  the  gentle  Tweed, 
And  the  green  silent  pastures,  yet  remain. 

W.  Wordsworth 
CCXCV 

THE  BEECH  TREE'S  PETITION 

O  leave  this  barren  spot  to  me !  25 

Spare,  woodman,  spare  the  beechen  tree ! 
Though  bush  or  floweret  never  grow 
My  dark  unwarming  shade  below ; 


BOOK  FOURTH  307 

Nor  summer  bud  perfume  the  dew 

Of  rosy  blush,  or  yellow  hue ; 

Nor  fruits  of  autumn,  blossom-born, 

My  green  and  glossy  leaves  adorn ; 

Nor  murmuring  tribes  from  me  derive  5 

Th'  ambrosial  amber  of  the  hive ; 

Yet  leave  this  barren  spot  to  me : 

Spare,  .woodman,  spare  the  beechen  tree ! 

Thrice  twenty  summers  I  have  seen 

The  sky  grow  bright,  the  forest  green ;  10 

And  many  a  wintry  wind  have  stood 

In  bloomless,  fruitless  solitude, 

Since  childhood  in  my  pleasant  bower 

First  spent  its  sweet  and  sportive  hour; 

Since  youthful  lovers  in  my  shade  15 

Their  vows  of  truth  and  rapture  made, 

And  on  my  trunk's  surviving  frame 

Carved  many  a  long-forgotten  name. 

Oh !  by  the  sighs  of  gentle  sound, 

First  breathed  upon  this  sacred  ground ;  20 

By  all  that  Love  has  whisper'd  here, 

Or  Beauty  heard  with  ravish'd  ear ; 

As  Love's  own  altar  honor  me : 

Spare,  woodman,  spare  the  beechen  tree ! 

T.  Campbell 

CCXCVI 
ADMONITION  TO  A  TRAVELER 

Yes,  there  is  holy  pleasure  in  thine  eye !  2  5 

—  The  lovely  Cottage  in  the  guardian  nook 
Hath  stirr'd  thee  deeply ;  with  its  own  dear  brook, 
Its  own  small  pasture,  almost  its  own  sky ! 

But  covet  not  the  abode ;  forbear  to  sigh 
As  many  do,  repining  while  they  look ;  30 

Intruders  —  who  would  tear  from  Nature's  book 
This  precious  leaf  with  harsh  impiety. 


308  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

—  Think  what  the  home  must  be  if  it  were  thine, 
Even  thine,  though  few  thy  wants !  —  Roof,  window, 

door, 
The  very  flowers  are  sacred  to  the  Poor, 

The  roses  to  the  porch  which  they  entwine : 

Yea,  all  that  now  enchants  thee,  from  the  day  5 

On  which  it  should  be  touch'd,  would  melt  away ! 

'     W.  Wordsworth 

CCXCVII 
TO  THE  HIGHLAND  GIRL  OF  INVERSNEYDE 

Sweet  Highland  Girl,  a  very  shower 

Of  beauty  is  thy  earthly  dower ! 

Twice  seven  consenting  years  have  shed 

Their  utmost  bounty  on  thy  head :  10 

And  these  gray  rocks,  that  household  lawn, 

Those  trees  —  a  veil  just  half  withdrawn, 

This  fall  of  water  that  doth  make 

A  murmur  near  the  silent  lake, 

This  little  bay,  a  quiet  road  1 5 

That  holds  in  shelter  thy  abode ; 

In  truth  together  ye  do  seem 

Like  something  fashion'd  in  a  dream ; 

Such  forms  as  from  their  covert  peep 

When  earthly  cares  are  laid  asleep !  20 

But  O  fair  Creature !  in  the  light 

Of  common  day,  so  heavenly  bright, 

I  bless  Thee,  Vision  as  thou  art, 

I  bless  thee  with  a  human  heart : 

God  shield  thee  to  thy  latest  years !  25 

Thee  neither  know  I  nor  thy  peers : 

And  yet  my  eyes  are  fill'd  with  tears. 

With  earnest  feeling  I  shall  pray 
For  thee  when  I  am  far  away ; 


BOOK  FOURTH  309 

For  never  saw  I  mien  or  face 

In  which  more  plainly  I  could  trace 

Benignity  and  home-bred  sense 

Ripening  in  perfect  innocence. 

Here  scatter'd,  like  a  random  seed,  5 

Remote  from  men,  Thou  dost  not  need 

The  embarrass'd  look  of  shy  distress, 

And  maidenly  shameface'dness : 

Thou  wear'st  upon  thy  forehead  clear 

The  freedom  of  a  Mountaineer :  10 

A  face  with  gladness  overspread ; 

Soft  smiles,  by  human  kindness  bred ; 

And  seemliness  complete,  that  sways 

Thy  courtesies,  about  thee  plays ; 

With  no  restraint,  but  such  as  springs  15 

From  quick  and  eager  visitings 

Of  thoughts  that  lie  beyond  the  reach 

Of  thy  few  words  of  English  speech : 

A  bondage  sweetly  brook'd,  a  strife 

That  gives  thy  gestures  grace  and  life !  20 

So  have  I,  not  unmoved  in  mind, 

Seen  birds  of  tempest-loving  kind  — 

Thus  beating  up  against  the  wind. 

What  hand  but  would  a  garland  cull 

For  thee  who  art  so  beautiful  ?  25 

O  happy  pleasure!  here  to  dwell 

Beside  thee  in  some  heathy  dell ; 

Adopt  your  homely  ways,  and  dress, 

A  shepherd,  thou  a  shepherdess ! 

But  I  could  frame  a  wish  for  thee  30 

More  like  a  grave  reality : 

Thou  art  to  me  but  as  a  wave 

Of  the  wild  sea :  and  I  would  have 

Some  claim  upon  thee,  if  I  could, 

Though  but  of  common  neighborhood.  35 


310  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

What  joy  to  hear  thee,  and  to  see ! 
Thy  elder  brother  I  would  be, 
Thy  father  —  anything  to  thee. 

Now  thanks  to  Heaven !  that  of  its  grace 
Hath  led  me  to  this  lonely  place :  5 

Joy  have  I  had ;  and  going  hence 
I  bear  away  my  recompense. 
In  spots  like  these  it  is  we  prize 
Our  Memory,  feel  that  she  hath  eyes : 
Then  why  should  I  be  loath  to  stir?  10 

I  feel  this  place  was  made  for  her ; 
To  give  new  pleasure  like  the  past, 
Continued  long  as  life  shall  last. 
Nor  am  I  loth,  though  pleased  at  heart, 
Sweet  Highland  Girl !  from  thee  to  part ;  1 5 

For  I,  methinks,  till  I  grow  old 
As  fair  before  me  shall  behold 
As  I  do  now,  the  cabin  small, 
The  lake,  the  bay,  the  waterfall ; 
And  Thee,  the  Spirit  of  them  all !  20 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCXCVIII 
THE  REAPER 

Behold  her,  single  in  the  field, 

Yon  solitary  Highland  Lass ! 

Reaping  and  singing  by  herself ; 

Stop  here,  or  gently  pass ! 

Alone  she  cuts  and  binds  the  grain,  25 

And  sings  a  melancholy  strain ; 

O  listen !  for  the  vale  profound 

Is  overflowing  with  the  sound. 

No  nightingale  did  ever  chaunt 

More  welcome  notes  to  weary  bands  30 

Of  travelers  in  some  shady  haunt, 

Among  Arabian  sands : 


BOOK  FOURTH  311 

A  voice  so  thrilling  ne'er  was  heard 
In  springtime  from  the  cuckoo  bird, 
Breaking  the  silence  of  the  seas 
Among  the  farthest  Hebrides. 

Will  no  one  tell  me  what  she  sings?  5 

Perhaps  the  plaintive  numbers  flow 

For  old,  unhappy  far-off  things, 

And  battles  long  ago : 

Or  is  it  some  more  humble  lay, 

Familiar  matter  of  to-day?  10 

Some  natural  sorrow,  loss,  or  pain, 

That  has  been,  and  may  be  again ! 

Whatever  the  theme,  the  maiden  sang 

As  if  her  song  could  have  no  ending ; 

I  saw  her  singing  at  her  work,  15 

And  o'er  the  sickle  bending ;  — 

I  listened,  motionless  and  still ; 

And,  as  I  mounted  up  the  hill, 

The  music  in  my  heart  I  bore 

Long  after  it  was  heard  no  more.  20 

W.  Wordsworth 
CCXCIX 

THE  REVERIE  OF  POOR  SUSAN 

At  the  corner  of  Wood  Street,  when  daylight  appears, 
Hangs  a  Thrush  that  sings  loud,  it  has  sung  for  three 

years : 

Poor  Susan  has  passed  by  the  spot,  and  has  heard 
In  the  silence  of  morning  the  song  of  the  bird. 

'T  is  a  note  of  enchantment;  what  ails  her?  She  sees         25 

A  mountain  ascending,  a  vision  of  trees ; 

Bright  volumes  of  vapor  through  Lothbury  glide, 

And  a  river  flows  on  through  the  vale  of  Cheapside. 

Green  pastures  she  views  in  the  midst  of  the  dale 

Down  which  she  so  often  has  tripp'd  with  her  pail ;  30 


312  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

And  a  single  small  cottage,  a  nest  like  a  dove's, 
The  one  only  dwelling  on  earth  that  she  loves; 

She  looks,  and  her  heart  is  in  heaven :  but  they  fade, 
The  mist  and  the  river,  the  hill  and  the  shade; 
The  stream  will  not  flow,  and  the  hill  will  not  rise,  5 

And  the  colors  have  all  pass'd  away  from  her  eyes ! 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCC 
TO  A  LADY,  WITH  A  GUITAR 

Ariel  to  Miranda :  —  Take 

This  slave  of  music,  for  the  sake 

Of  him,  who  is  the  slave  of  thee ; 

And  teach  it  all  the  harmony  10 

In  which  thou  canst,  and  only  thou, 

Make  the  delighted  spirit  glow, 

Till  joy  denies  itself  again 

And,  too  intense,  is  turn'd  to  pain. 

For  by  permission  and  command  1 5 

Of  thine  own  Prince  Ferdinand, 

Poor  Ariel  sends  this  silent  token 

Of  more  than  ever  can  be  spoken ; 

Your  guardian  spirit,  Ariel,  who 

From  life  to  life  must  still  pursue  20 

Your  happiness,  for  thus  alone 

Can  Ariel  ever  find  his  own.  . .._, ,., ._, 

From  Prospero's  enchanted  cell, 

As  the  mighty  verses  tell, 

To  the  throne  of  Naples  he  25 

Lit  you  o'er  the  trackless  sea, 

Flitting  on,  your  prow  before, 

Like  a  living  meteor. 

When  you  die,  the  silent  Moon 

In  her  interlunar  swoon  30 

Is  not  sadder  in  her  cell 

Than  deserted  Ariel :  — 


BOOK  FOURTH  313 

When  you  live  again  on  earth, 

Like  an  unseen  Star  of  birth 

Ariel  guides  you  o'er  the  sea 

Of  life  from  your  nativity :  — 

Many  changes  have  been  run  5 

Since  Ferdinand  and  you  begun 

Your  course  of  love,  and  Ariel  still 

Has  track'd  your  steps  and  served  your  will. 

Now  in  humbler,  happier  lot, 

This  is  all  remember 'd  not ;  10 

And  now,  alas  !  the  poor  Sprite  is 

Imprison'd  for  some  fault  of  his 

In  a  body  like  a  grave  — 

From  you  he  only  dares  to  crave, 

For  his  service  and  his  sorrow  15 

A  smile  to-day,  a  song  to-morrow. 

The  artist  who  this  idol  wrought 

To  echo  all  harmonious  thought, 

Fell'd  a  tree,  while  on  the  steep 

The  woods  were  in  their  winter  sleep,  20 

Rock'd  in  that  repose  divine 

On  the  wind-swept  Apennine ; 

And  dreaming,  some  of  Autumn  past, 

And  some  of  Spring  approaching  fast, 

And  some  of  April  buds  and  showers,  25 

And  some  of  songs  in  July  bowers, 

And  all  of  love :  And  so  this  tree,  — 

Oh  that  such  our  death  may  be !  — 

Died  in  sleep,  and  felt  no  pain, 

To  live  in  happier  form  again :  30 

From  which,  beneath  heaven's  fairest  star, 

The  artist  wrought  this  loved  Guitar ; 

A.nd  taught  it  justly  to  reply 

To  all  who  question  skillfully 

In  language  gentle  as  thine  own ;  35 

Whispering  in  enamor'd  tone 


3H  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Sweet  oracles  of  woods  and  dells, 
And  summer  winds  in  sylvan  cells : 

—  For  it  had  learned  all  harmonies 
Of  the  plains  and  of  the  skies, 

Of  the  forests  and  the  mountains,  5 

And  the  many-voiced  fountains ; 

The  clearest  echoes  of  the  hills, 

The  softest  notes  of  falling  rills, 

The  melodies  of  birds  and  bees, 

The  murmuring  of  summer  seas,  10 

And  pattering  rain,  and  breathing  dew, 

And  airs  of  evening ;  and  it  knew 

That  seldom-heard  mysterious  sound 

Which,  driven  on  its  diurnal  round, 

As  it  floats  through  boundless  day,  i  $ 

Our  world  enkindles  on  its  way : 

—  All  this  it  knows,  but  will  not  tell 
To  those  who  cannot  question  well 
The  Spirit  that  inhabits  it ; 

It  talks  according  to  the  wit  20 

Of  its  companions ;  and  no  more 

Is  heard  than  has  been  felt  before 

By  those  who  tempt  it  to  betray 

These  secrets  of  an  elder  day. 

But,  sweetly  as  its  answers  will  25 

Flatter  hands  of  perfect  skill, 

It  keeps  its  highest  holiest  tone 

For  our  beloved  Friend  alone. 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCCI 
THE  DAFFODILS 

I  wander'd  lonely  as  a  cloud 

That  floats  on  high  o'er  vales  and  hills,  30 

When  all  at  once  I  saw  a  crowd, 

A  host  of  golden  daffodils, 


BOOK  FOURTH  315 

Beside  the  lake,  beneath  the  trees, 
Fluttering  and  dancing  in  the  breeze. 

Continuous  as  the  stars  that  shine 

And  twinkle  on  the  milky  way, 

They  stretch'd  in  never-ending  line  5 

Along  the  margin  of  a  bay : 

Ten  thousand  saw  I  at  a  glance 

Tossing  their  heads  in  sprightly  dance. 

The  waves  beside  them  danced,  but  they 

Outdid  the  sparkling  waves  in  glee :  —  10 

A  Poet  could  not  but  be  gay 

In  such  a  jocund  company ! 

I  gazed  —  and  gazed  —  but  little  thought 

What  wealth  the  show  to  me  had  brought ; 

For  oft,  when  on  my  couch  I  lie  15 

In  vacant  or  in  pensive  mood, 
They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye 
Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude ; 
And  then  my  heart  with  pleasure  fills, 
And  dances  with  the  daffodils.  20 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCII 
TO  THE  DAISY 

With  little  here  to  do  or  see 

Of  things  that  in  the  great  world  be, 

Sweet  Daisy !  oft  I  talk  to  thee 

For  thou  art  worthy, 

Thou  unassuming  Commonplace  25 

Of  Nature,  with  that  homely  face, 
And  yet  with  something  of  a  grace 

Which  Love  makes  for  thee ! 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Oft  on  the  dappled  turf  at  ease 

I  sit  and  play  with  similes, 

Loose  types  of  things  through  all  degrees, 

Thoughts  of  thy  raising  ; 

And  many  a  fond  and  idle  name  5 

I  give  to  thee,  for  praise  or  blame 
As  is  the  humor  of  the  game, 

While  I  am  gazing. 

A  nun  demure,  of  lowly  port ; 

Or  sprightly  maiden,  of  Love's  court,  10 

In  thy  simplicity  the  sport 

Of  all  temptations ; 
A  queen  in  crown  of  rubies  drest ; 
A  starveling  in  a  scanty  vest ; 
Are  all,  as  seems  to  suit  thee  best,  15 

Thy  appellations. 

A  little  Cyclops,  with  one  eye 
Staring  to  threaten  and  defy, 
That  thought  comes  next  —  and  instantly 

The  freak  is  over,  20 

The  shape  will  vanish,  and  behold  ! 
A  silver  shield  with  boss  of  gold 
That  spreads  itself,  some  faery  bold 

In  fight  to  cover. 

I  see  thee  glittering  from  afar —  25 

And  then  thou  art  a  pretty  star, 
Not  quite  so  fair  as  many  are 

In  lieaven  above  thee ! 
Yet  like  a  star,  with  glittering  crest, 
Self-poised  in  air  thou  seem'st  to  rest ;  —  30 

May  peace  come  never  to  his  nest 

Who  shall  reprove  thee ! 

Sweet  Flower !  for  by  that  name  at  last 
When  all  my  reveries  are  past 


And  sometimes  like  a  gleaner  thou  dost  keep 
Steady  thy  laden  head  across  a  brook." 


BOOK  FOURTH  317 

I  call  thee,  and  to  that  cleave  fast, 

Sweet  silent  Creature ! 
That  breath'st  with  me  in  sun  and  air, 
Do  thou,  as  thou  art  wont,  repair 
My  heart  with  gladness,  and  a  share  5 

Of  thy  meek  nature ! 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCIII 
ODE  TO  AUTUMN 

Season  of  mists  and  mellow  fruitfulness, 

Close  bosom  friend  of  the  maturing  sun  ; 

Conspiring  with  him  how  to  load  and  bless 

With  fruit  the  vines  that  round  the  thatch  eaves  run ;      10 

To  bend  with  apples  the  moss'd  cottage  trees, 

And  fill  all  fruit  with  ripeness  to  the  core ; 

To  swell  the  gourd,  and  plump  the  hazel  shells 

With  a  sweet  kernel ;  to  set  budding  more, 

And  still  more,  later  flowers  for  the  bees,  15 

Until  they  think  warm  days  will  never  cease ; 

For  Summer  has  o'erbrimm'd  their  clammy  cells. 

Who  hath  not  seen  thee  oft  amid  thy  store  ? 

Sometimes  whoever  seeks  abroad  may  find 

Thee  sitting  careless  on  a  granary  floor,  20 

Thy  hair  soft-lifted  by  the  winnowing  wind ; 

Or  on  a  half-reap'd  furrow  sound  asleep, 

Drowsed  with  the  fume  of  poppies,  while  thy  hook 

Spares  the  next  swath  and  all  its  twine'd  flowers : 

And  sometimes  like  a  gleaner  thou  dost  keep  25 

Steady  thy  laden  head  across  a  brook ; 

Or  by  a  cider-press,  with  patient  look, 

Thou  watchest  the  last  oozings,  hours  by  hours. 

Where  are  the  songs  of  Spring?  Aye,  where  are  they? 
Think  not  of  them,  thou  hast  thy  music  too,  —  30 


Ji8  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

While  barre'd  clouds  bloom  the  soft-dying  day 

And  touch  the  stubble-plains  with  rosy  hue ; 

Then  in  a  wailful  choir  the  small  gnats  mourn 

Among  the  river  sallows,  borne  aloft 

Or  sinking  as  the  light  wind  lives  or  dies  ;•  5 

And  full-grown  lambs  loud  bleat  from  hilly  bourn ; 

Hedge  crickets  sing ;  and  now  with  treble  soft 

The  redbreast  whistles  from  a  garden  croft ; 

And  gathering  swallows  twitter  in  the  skies. 

/.  Keats 

''•*$'•       •    '•-.-   '  •  •'•'•  •   :-~.    -•'-' 

CCCIV 

ODE  TO  WINTER 
GERMANY,  DECEMBER,  1800 
When  first  the  fiery-mantled  Sun  10 

'  •''"'     ':  -:':'"  '•"'''•        'ITS  /v 

His  heavenly  race  began  to  run, 
Round  the  earth  and  ocean  blue 
His  children  four  the  Seasons  flew. 

..•  -i  ',-  •  '«'         '  '       '•>••••  /' 

First,  in  green  apparel  dancing, 
The  young  Spring  smiled  with  angel  grace ;  1 5 

Rosy  Summer  next  advancing, 
Rush'd  into  her  sire's  embrace  — 
Her  bright-hair'd  sire,  who  bade  her  l^eep, 

Forever  nearest  to  his  smiles,        ...     Jf-  r 
On  Calpe's  olive-shaded  steep  20 

Or  India's  citron-cover'd  isles; 
More  remote,  and  buxom-brown. 

The  Queen  of  vintage  bow'cl  before  his; throne ; 
A  rich  pomegranate  gemm'd  her  crown,.  . 

A  ripe  sheaf  bound  her  zone.     :  25 

;  v      But  howling  Winter  fled  afar     .  .....    .. 

To  hills  that  prop  the  polar  star ; 
*s      And  loves  on  deer-borne  car  to  ride:  ;:rr.  ' 

With  barren  darkness  by  his  side, .:  : ••'.v.-.-iT 


BOOK  FOURTH        <  319 

Round  the  shore  where  loud  Lofoden 

Whirls  to  death  the  roaring  whale, 
Round  the  hall  where  Runic  Odin 

Howls  his  war  song  to  the  gale ; 
Save  when  adown  the  ravaged  globe  5 

He  travels  on  his  native  storm, 
Deflowering  Nature's  grassy  robe    u;!/Y 

And  trampling  on  her  faded  form :  — 
Till  light's  returning  Lord  assume   ruH 

The  shaft  that  drives  him  to  his  polar  field,  10 

Of  power  to  pierce  his  raven  plume 

And  crystal-cover'd  shield. 

Oh,  sire  of  storms!  whose  savage  ear 

The  Lapland  drum  delights  to  hear, 

When  Frenzy  with  her  bloodshot  eye  15 

Implores  thy  dreadful  deity  — 

Archangel !  Power  of  desolation  ! 

Fast  descending  as  thou  art, 
Say,  hath  mortal  invocation 

Spells  to  touch  thy  stony  heart?  20 

Then,  sullen  Winter !  hear  my  prayer, 
And  gently  rule  the  ruin'd  year ; 
Nor  chill  the  wanderer's  bosom  bare 
Nor  freeze  the  wretch's  falling  tear : 
To  shuddering  Want's  unman  tied  bed  25 

Thy  horror-breathing  agues  cease  to  lend, 
And  gently  on  the  orphan  head 

Of  Innocence  descend. 

But  chiefly  spare,  O  king  of  clouds ! 
The  sailor  on  his  airy  shrouds,  30 

When  wrecks  and  beacons  strew  the  steep, 
And  specters  walk  along  the  deep. 
Milder  yet  thy  snowy  breezes 
Pour  on  yonder  tented  shores, 


32o  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Where  the  Rhine's  broad  billow  freezes, 

Or  the  dark-brown  Danube  roars. 
Oh,  winds  of  Winter !  list  ye  there 

To  many  a  deep  and  dying  groan  ? 
Or  start,  ye  demons  of  the  midnight  air,  5 

At  shrieks  and  thunders  louder  than  your  own  ? 
Alas !  ev'n  your  unhallow'd  breath 

May  spare  the  victim  fallen  low ; 
But  Man  will  ask  no  truce  to  death,  — 

No  bounds  to  human  woe.  10 

T.  Campbell 

CCCV 
YARROW  UNVISITED,  1803 

From  Stirling  Castle  we  had  seen 

The  mazy  Forth  unravel'd, 

Had  trod  the  banks  of  Clyde  and  Tay 

And  with  the  Tweed  had  travel'd ; 

And  when  we  came  to  Clovenford,  15 

Then  said  my  "  winsome  Marrow," 

"  Whatever  betide,  we  '11  turn  aside, 

And  see  the  Braes  of  Yarrow." 

"  Let  Yarrow  folk,  frae  Selkirk  town, 

Who  have  been  buying,  selling,  20 

Go  back  to  Yarrow,  't  is  their  own, 

Each  maiden  to  her  dwelling ! 

On  Yarrow's  banks  let  herons  feed, 

Hares  couch,  and  rabbits  burrow ; 

But  we  will  downward  with  the  Tweed,  25 

Nor  turn  aside  to  Yarrow. 

"  There  's  Gala  Water,  Leader  Haughs, 

Both  lying  right  before  us ; 

And  Dryburgh,  where  with  chiming  Tweed 

The  lintwhites  sing  in  chorus ;  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  321 

There 's  pleasant  Tiviot-dale,  a  land 
Made  blithe  with  plow  and  harrow : 
Why  throw  away  a  needful  day 
To  go  in  search  of  Yarrow  ? 

"  What 's  Yarrow  but  a  river  bare  5 

That  glides  the  dark  hills  under  ? 

There  are  a  thousand  such  elsewhere 

As  worthy  of  your  wonder." 

—  Strange  words  they  seem'd  of  slight  and  scorn ; 

My  True-love  sigh'd  for  sorrow,  10 

And  look'd  me  in  the  face,  to  think, 

I  thus  could  speak  of  Yarrow ! 

"  O  green,"  said  I,  "  are  Yarrow's  holms, 

And  sweet  is  Yarrow  flowing ! 

Fair  hangs  the  apple  frae  the  rock,  15 

But  we  will  leave  it  growing. 

O'er  hilly  path  and  open  strath 

We  '11  wander  Scotland  thorough ; 

But,  though  so  near,  we  will  not  turn 

Into  the  dale  of  Yarrow.  20 

"  Let  beeves  and  home-bred  kine  partake 

The  sweets  of  Burn-mill  meadow ; 

The  swan  on  still  Saint  Mary's  Lake 

Float  double,  swan  and  shadow ! 

We  will  not  see  them  ;  will  not  go  25 

To-day,  nor  yet  to-morrow ; 

Enough  if  in  our  hearts  we  know 

There 's  such  a  place  as  Yarrow. 

"  Be  Yarrow  stream  unseen,  unknown ! 

It  must,  or  we  shall  rue  it :  30 

We  have  a  vision  of  our  own, 

Ah  !  why  should  we  undo  it  ? 

The  treasured  dreams  of  times  long  past, 

We  '11  keep  them,  winsome  Marrow ! 


322  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

For  when  we're  there,  although  'tis  fair, 
'T  will  be  another  Yarrow ! 

"If  Care  with  freezing  years  should  come 
And  wandering  seem  but  folly,  — 
Should  we  be  loath  to  stir  from  home,  5 

And  yet  be  melancholy ; 
Should  life  be  dull,  and  spirits  low, 
'T  will  soothe  us  in  our  sorrow 
inoiv  J:      That  earth  has  something  yet  to  show, 

The  bonny  holms  of  Yarrow !  "  10 

W.  Wordsworth 
CCCVI 

YARROW  VISITED 
SEPTEMBER,  1814 

And  is  this  —  Yarrow  ?  —  This  the  stream 
Of  which  my  fancy  cherish'd 
So  faithfully,  a  waking  dream, 
An  image  that  hath  perish'd  ? 

O  that  some  minstrel's  harp  were  near  1 5 

To  utter  notes  of  gladness 
-  And  chase  this  silence  from  the  air, 
That  fills  my  heart  with  sadness !         r 

Yet  why  ?  —  a  silvery  current  flows 

With  uncontroll'd  meanderings ;  '  20 

Nor  have  these  eyes  by  greener  hills 

Been  soothed,  in  all  my  wanderings. 

And,  through  her  depths,  Saint  Mary's  Lake 

Is  visibly  delighted ; 

For  not  a  feature  of  those  hills  25 

Is  in  the  mirror  slighted. 

A  blue  sky  bends  o'er  Yarrow  Vale, 

Save  where  that  pearly  whiteness 

Is  Iround  the  rising  sun  diffused, 

A  tender  hazy  brightness  ;  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  323 

Mild  dawn  of  promise !  that  excludes 
All  profitless  dejection ; 
Though  not  unwilling  here  to  admit 
A  pensive  recollection. 

Where  was  it  that  the  famous  Flower  5 

Of  Yarrow  Vale  lay  bleeding  ? 

His  bed  perchance  was  yon  smooth  mound 

On  which  the  herd  is  feeding : 

And  haply  from  this  crystal  pool, 

Now  peaceful  as  the  morning,  10 

The  Water  wraith  ascended  thrice, 

And  gave  his  doleful  warning. 

Delicious  is  the  lay  that  sings 

The  haunts  of  happy  lovers, 

The  path  that  leads  them  to  the  grove,  15 

The  leafy  grove  that  covers : 

And  pity  sanctifies  the  verse 

That  paints,  by  strength  of  sorrow, 

The  unconquerable  strength  of  love ; 

Bear  witness,  rueful  Yarrow !  20 

But  thou  that  didst  appear  so  fair 

To  fond  imagination, 

Dost  rival  in  the  light  of  day 

Her  delicate  creation : 

Meek  loveliness  is  round  thee  spread,  25 

A  softness  still  and  holy : 

The  grace  of  forest  charms  decay'd, 

And  pastoral  melancholy. 

That  region  left,  the  vale  unfolds 

Rich  groves  of  lofty  stature,  30 

With  Yarrow  winding  through  the  pomp 

Of  cultivated  nature ; 

And  rising  from  those  lofty  groves 

Behold  a  ruin  hoary, 


324  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

The  shatter' d  front  of  Newark's  towers, 
Renown'd  in  Border  story. 

Fair  scenes  for  childhood's  opening  bloom, 

For  sportive  youth  to  stray  in, 

For  manhood  to  enjoy  his  strength,  5 

And  age  to  wear  away  in ! 

Yon  cottage  seems  a  bower  of  bliss, 

A  covert  for  protection 

Of  tender  thoughts  that  nestle  there  — 

The  brood  of  chaste  affection.  10 

How  sweet  on  this  autumnal  day 

The  wildwood  fruits  to  gather, 

And  on  my  True-love's  forehead  plant 

A  crest  of  blooming  heather ! 

And  what  if  I  enwreathed  my  own  ?  1 5 

'T  were  no  offense  to  reason ; 

The  sober  hills  thus  deck  their  brows 

To  meet  the  wintry  season. 

I  see  —  but  not  by  sight  alone, 

Loved  Yarrow,  have  I  won  thee ;  20 

A  ray  of  Fancy  still  survives  — 

Her  sunshine  plays  upon  thee ! 

Thy  ever-youthful  waters  keep 

A  course  of  lively  pleasure ; 

And  gladsome  notes  my  lips  can  breathe  25 

Accordant  to  the  measure. 

The  vapors  linger  round  the  heights, 

They  melt,  and  soon  must  vanish ; 

One  hour  is  theirs,  nor  more  is  mine  — 

Sad  thought !  which  I  would  banish,  3° 

But  that  I  know,  where'er  I  go, 

Thy  genuine  image,  Yarrow ! 

Will  dwell  with  me,  to  heighten  joy, 

And  cheer  my  mind  in  sorrow. 

W.  Wordsworth 


BOOK  FOURTH  325 

cccvn 
THE  INVITATION 

Best  and  brightest,  come  away,  — 

Fairer  far  than  this  fair  Day, 

Which,  like  thee,  to  those  in  sorrow 

Comes  to  bid  a  sweet  good  morrow 

To  the  rough  year  just  awake  5 

In  its  cradle  on  the  brake. 

The  brightest  hour  of  unborn  Spring 

Through  the  winter  wandering, 

Found,  it  seems,  the  halcyon  morn 

To  hoar  February  born ;  10 

Bending  from  heaven,  in  azure  mirth, 

It  kiss'd  the  forehead  of  the  earth, 

And  smiled  upon  the  silent  sea, 

And  bade  the  frozen  streams  be  free, 

And  waked  to  music  all  their  fountains,  15 

And  breathed  upon  the  frozen  mountains, 

And  like  a  prophetess  of  May 

Strew'd  flowers  upon  the  barren  way, 

Making  the  wintry  world  appear 

Like  one  on  whom  thou  smilest,  dear.  20 

Away,  away,  from  men  and  towns, 

To  the  wildwood  and  the  downs  — 

To  the  silent  wilderness 

Where  the  soul  need  not  repress 

Its  music,  lest  it  should  not  find  25 

An  echo  in  another's  mind, 

While  the  touch  of  Nature's  art 

Harmonizes  heart  to  heart. 

Radiant  Sister  of  the  Day, 

Awake  !  arise  !  and  come  away !  30 

To  the  wildwoods  and  the  plains, 

To  the  pools  where  winter  rains 


326  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Image  all  their  roof  of  leaves, 

Where  the  pine  its  garland  weaves 

Of  sapless  green,  and  ivy  dun, 

Round  stems  that  never  kiss  the  sun ; 

Where  the  lawns  and  pastures  be  5 

And  the  sandhills  of  the  sea ; 

Where  the  melting  hoarfrost  wets 

The  daisy  star  that  never  sets, 

And  windflowers  and  violets 

Which  yet  join  not  scent  to  hue  10 

Crown  the  pale  year  weak  and  new ; 

When  the  night  is  left  behind 

In  the  deep  east,  dim  and  blind, 

And  the  blue  noon  is  over  us, 

And  the  multitudinous  1 5 

Billows  murmur  at  our  feet, 

Where  the  earth  and  ocean  meet, 

And  all  things  seem  only  one 

In  the  universal  Sun. 

P.  B.  Shelley 

cccvin  r 

THE  RECOLLECTION 

Now  the  last  day  of  many  days  20 

All  beautiful  and  bright  as  thou, 

The  loveliest  and  the  last,  is  dead : 

Rise,  Memory,  and  write  its  praise  ! 

Up  —  to  thy  wonted  work !  come,  trace 

The  epitaph  of  glory  fled,  25 

For  now  the  earth  has  changed  its  face, 

A  frown  is  on  the  heaven's  brow.        ; 

We  wander 'd  to  the  Pine  Forest      »• .. ;! 

That  skirts  the  Ocean's  foam  ; 
The  lightest  wind  was  in  its  nest,  30 

The  tempest  in  its  home. 


BOOK  FOURTH  327 

The  whispering  waves  were  half  asleep, 

The  clouds  were  gone  to  play, 
And  on  the  bosom  of  the  deep 

The  smile  of  heaven  lay ; 
It  seem'd  as  if  the  hour  were  one  5 

Sent  from  beyond  the  skies 
Which  scatter'd  from  above  the  sun 

A  light  of  Paradise  ! 

We  paused  amid  the  pines  that  stood 

The  giants  of  the  waste,  10 

Tortured  by  storms  to  shapes  as  rude 

As  serpents  interlaced,  — 
And  soothed  by  every  azure  breath 

That  under  heaven  is  blown, 
To  harmonies  and  hues  beneath,      ;  15 

As  tender  as  its  own  : 
Now  all  the  treetops  lay  asleep 

Like  green  waves  on  the  sea, 
As  still  as  in  the  silent  deep 

The  ocean  woods  may  be.  20 

How  calm  it  was  !  —  The  silence  there 

By  such  a  chain  was  bound, 
That  even  the  busy  woodpecker 

Made  stiller  with  her  sound 
The  inviolable  quietness ;  ,  25 

The  breath  of  peace  we  drew 
With  its  soft  motion  made  not  less 

The  calm  that  round  us  grew. 
There  seem'd,  from  the  remotest  seat 

Of  the  white  mountain  waste  30 

To  the  soft  flower  beneath  our  feet, 

A  magic  circle  traced,  — 
A  spirit  interfused  around, 

A  thrilling  silent  life ; 


328  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

To  momentary  peace  it  bound 

Our  mortal  nature's  strife ;  — 
And  still  I  felt  the  center  of 

The  magic  circle  there 
Was  one  fair  form  that  fill'd  with  love  5 

The  lifeless  atmosphere. 

We  paused  beside  the  pools  that  lie 

Under  the  forest  bough ; 
Each  seem'd  as  't  were  a  little  sky 

Gulf 'd  in  a  world  below ;  10 

A  firmament  of  purple  light 

Which  in  the  dark  earth  lay, 
More  boundless  than  the  depth  of  night 

And  purer  than  the  day  — 
In  which  the  lovely  forests  grew  15 

As  in  the  upper  air, 
More  perfect  both  in  shape  and  hue 

Than  any  spreading  there. 
There  lay  the  glade  and  neighboring  lawn, 

And  through  the  dark-green  wood  20 

The  white  sun  twinkling  like  the  dawn 

Out  of  a  speckled  cloud. 
Sweet  views  which  in  our  world  above 

Can  never  well  be  seen 
Were  imaged  in  the  water's  love  25 

Of  that  fair  forest  green : 
And  all  was  interfused  beneath 

With  an  Elysian  glow, 
An  atmosphere  without  a  breath, 

A  softer  day  below.  30 

Like  one  beloved,  the  scene  had  lent 

To  the  dark  water's  breast 
Its  every  leaf  and  lineament 

With  more  than  truth  exprest ; 
Until  an  envious  wind  crept  by,  35 

Like  an  unwelcome  thought 


BOOK  FOURTH  329 

Which  from  the  mind's  too  faithful  eye 

Blots  one  dear  image  out. 
—  Though  thou  art  ever  fair  and  kind, 

The  forests  ever  green, 
Less  oft  is  peace  in  Shelley's  mind  5 

Than  calm  in  waters  seen ! 

P.  B.  ShelUy 

CCCIX 
BY  THE  SEA 

It  is  a  beauteous  evening,  calm  and  free ; 

The  holy  time  is  quiet  as  a  Nun 

Breathless  with  adoration ;  the  broad  sun 

Is  sinking  down  in  its  tranquillity ;  10 

The  gentleness  of  heaven  is  on  the  Sea : 
Listen !  the  mighty  Being  is  awake, 
And  doth  with  his  eternal  motion  make 
A  sound  like  thunder  —  everlastingly. 

Dear  child !  dear  girl !  that  walkest  with  me  here,        15 
If  thou  appear  untouch'd  by  solemn  thought 
Thy  nature  is  not  therefore  less  divine : 

Thou  liest  in  Abraham's  bosom  all  the  year, 
And  worship'st  at  the  Temple's  inner  shrine, 
God  being  with  thee  when  we  know  it  not.  20 

W.  Words-worth 

cccx 
SONG  TO  THE  EVENING  STAR 

Star  that  bringest  home  the  bee, 
And  sett'st  the  weary  laborer  free ! 
If  any  star  shed  peace,  't  is  Thou 

That  send'st  it  from  above, 
Appearing  when  Heaven's  breath  and  brow  25 

Are  sweet  as  hers  we  love. 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Come  to  the  luxuriant  skies, 
Whilst  the  landscape's  odors  rise, 
Whilst  far-off  lowing  herds  are  heard 

And  songs  when  toil  is  done, 
From  cottages  whose  smoke  unstirr'd  5 

Curls  yellow  in  the  sun. 

Star  of  love's  soft  interviews, 
Parted  lovers  on  thee  muse ; 
Their  remembrancer  in  Heaven 

Of  thrilling  vows  thou  art,  10 

Too  delicious  to  be  riven 

By  absence  from  the  heart. 

T.  Campbell 

CCCXI 
DATUR  HORA  QUIETI 

The  sun  upon  the  lake  is  low, 

The  wild  birds  hush  their  song, 
The  hills  have  evening's  deepest  glow,  15 

Yet  Leonard  tarries  long. 
Now  all  whom  varied  toil  and  care 

From  home  and  love  divide, 
In  the  calm  sunset  may  repair 

Each  to  the  loved  one's  side.  20 

The  noble  dame,  on  turret  high, 

Who  waits  her  gallant  knight, 
Looks  to  the  western  beam  to  spy 

The  flash  of  armor  bright. 
The  village  maid,  with  hand  on  brow  25 

The  level  ray  to  shade, 
Upon  the  footpath  watches  now 

For  Colin's  darkening  plaid. 


BOOK  FOURTH  331 

Now  to  their  mates  the  wild  swans  row, 

By  day  they  swam  apart, 
And  to  the  thicket  wanders  slow 

The  hind  beside  the  hart. 
The  woodlark  at  his  partner's  side  5 

Twitters  his  closing  song  — 
All  meet  whom  day  and  care  divide, 

But  Leonard  tarries  long ! 

Sir  W.  Scott 

CCCXII 
TO  THE  MOON 

Art  thou  pale  for  weariness 
Of  climbing  heaven,  and  gazing  on  the  earth,  10 

Wandering  companionless 
Among  the  stars  that  have  a  different  birth,  — 
And  ever-changing,  like  a  joyless  eye 
That  finds  no  object  worth  its  constancy  ? 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCCXIII 
TO  SLEEP 

A  flock  of  sheep  that  leisurely  pass  by  15 

One  after  one ;  the  sound  of  rain,  and  bees 
Murmuring ;  the  fall  of  rivers,  winds  and  seas, 
Smooth  fields,  white  sheets  of  water,  and  pure  sky ; 

I  Ve  thought  of  all  by  turns,  and  yet  do  lie 

Sleepless  ;  and  soon  the  small  birds'  melodies  20 

Must  hear,  first  utter'd  from  my  orchard  trees, 

And  the  first  cuckoo's  melancholy  cry. 

Even  thus  last  night,  and  two  nights  more  I  lay, 
And  could  not  win  thee,  Sleep  !  by  any  stealth : 
So  do  not  let  me  wear  to-night  away :  25 


332  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Without  Thee  what  is  all  the  morning's  wealth  ? 
Come,  blessed  barrier  between  day  and  day, 
Dear  mother  of  fresh  thoughts  and  joyous  health ! 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXIV 
THE  SOLDIER'S  DREAM 

Our  bugles  sang  truce,  for  the  night  cloud  had  lower'd, 
And  the  sentinel  stars  set  their  watch  in  the  sky ;  5 

And  thousands  had  sunk  on  the  ground  overpower'd, 
The  weary  to  sleep,  and  the  wounded  to  die. 

When  reposing  that  night  on  my  pallet  of  straw 
By  the  wolf-scaring  fagot  that  guarded  the  slain, 

At  the  dead  of  the  night  a  sweet  Vision  I  saw ;  10 

And  thrice  ere  the  morning  I  dreamed  it  again. 

Methought  from  the  battle-field's  dreadful  array 
Far,  far,  I  had  roam'd  on  a  desolate  track : 

'T  was  Autumn,  —  and  sunshine  arose  on  the  way 

To  the  home  of  my  fathers,  that  welcomed  me  back.        15 

I  flew  to  the  pleasant  fields  traversed  so  oft 

In  life's  morning  march,  when  my  bosom  was  young ; 

I  heard  my  own  mountain  goats  bleating  aloft, 

And  knew  the  sweet  strain  that  the  corn  reapers  sung. 

Then  pledged  we  the  wine  cup,  and  fondly  I  swore  20 

From  my  home  and  my  weeping  friends  never  to  part ; 

My  little  ones  kiss'd  me  a  thousand  times  o'er, 
And  my  wife  sobb'd  aloud  in  her  fullness  of  heart. 

"  Stay  —  stay  with  us !  —  rest !  —  thou  art  weary  and 

worn ! "  — 

And  fain  was  their  war-broken  soldier  to  stay ;  —  25 

But  sorrow  return'd  with  the  dawning  of  morn, 
And  the  voice  in  my  dreaming  ear  melted  away. 

T.  Campbell 


BOOK  FOURTH  333 

cccxv 
A  DREAM  OF  THE  UNKNOWN 

I  dream'd  that  as  I  wander'd  by  the  way 

Bare  Winter  suddenly  was  changed  to  Spring, 

And  gentle  odors  led  my  steps  astray, 
Mix'd  with  a  sound  of  waters  murmuring 

Along  a  shelving  bank  of  turf,  which  lay  5 

Under  a  copse,  and  hardly  dared  to  fling 

Its  green  arms  round  the  bosom  of  the  stream, 

But  kiss'd  it  and  then  fled,  as  Thou  mightest  in  dream. 

There  grew  pied  windflowers  and  violets, 

Daisies,  those  pearl'd  Arcturi  of  the  earth,  10 

The  constellated  flower  that  never  sets ; 

Faint  oxlips ;  tender  bluebells,  at  whose  birth 
The  sod  scarce  heaved ;  and  that  tall  flower  that  wets  — 

[Like  a  child,  half  in  tenderness  and  mirth — J1 
Its  mother's  face  with  heaven-collected  tears,  15 

When  the  low  wind,  its  playmate's  voice,  it  hears. 

And  in  the  warm  hedge  grew  lush  eglantine, 
Green  cow-bind  and  the  moonlight-color'd  May, 

And  cherry  blossoms,  and  white  cups,  whose  wine 

Was  the  bright  dew  yet  drain'd  not  by  the  day ;  20 

And  wild  roses,  and  ivy  serpentine 

With  its  dark  buds  and  leaves,  wandering  astray ; 

And  flowers  azure,  black,  and  streak'd  with  gold, 

Fairer  .than  any  waken'd  eyes  behold. 

And  nearer  to  the  river's  trembling  edge  25 

There  grew  broad  flag-flowers,  purple  prank'd  with 
white, 

And  starry  river  buds  among  the  sedge, 
And  floating  water  lilies,  broad  and  bright, 

1  Omitted  from  Palgrave's  text  and  early  editions  of  Shelley.   Cf.  Hutchinson's 
edition,  p.  684. 


334  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Which  lit  the  oak  that  overhung  the  hedge 

With  moonlight  beams  of  their  own  watery  light ; 
And  bulrushes,  and  reeds  of  such  deep  green 
As  soothed  the  dazzled  eye  with  sober  sheen. 

Methought  that  of  these  visionary  flowers  5 

I  made  a  nosegay,  bound  in  such  a  way 

That  the  same  hues,  which  in  their  natural  bowers 
Were  mingled  or  opposed,  the  like  array 

Kept  these  imprisoned  children  of  the  Hours 

Within  my  hand,  —  and  then,  elate  and  gay,  10 

I  hastened  to  the  spot  whence  I  had  come 

That  I  might  there  present  it  —  O  !  to  Whom  ? 

P.  B.  Shelley 
CCCXVI 

KUBLA  KHAN 

In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan 

A  stately  pleasure-dome  decree : 

Where  Alph,  the  sacred  river,  ran  15 

Through  caverns  measureless  to  man 

Down  to  a  sunless  sea. 
So  twice  five  miles  of  fertile  ground 
With  walls  and  towers  were  girdled  round : 
And  there  were  gardens  bright  with  sinuous  rills          20 
Where  blossom'd  many  an  incense-bearing  tree ; 
And  here  were  forests  ancient  as  the  hills, 
Enfolding  sunny  spots  of  greenery. 

But  oh !  that  deep  romantic  chasm  which  slanted 

Down  the  green  hill  athwart  a  cedarn  cover !  25 

A  savage  place !  as  holy  and  enchanted 

As  e'er  beneath  a  waning  moon  was  haunted 

By  woman  wailing  for  her  demon-lover ! 

And  from  this  chasm,  with  ceaseless  turmoil  seething, 

As  if  this  earth  in  fast  thick  pants  were  breathing,       30 

A  mighty  fountain  momently  was  forced : 

Amid  whose  swift  half-intermitted  burst 


BOOK  FOURTH  335 

Huge  fragments  vaulted  like  rebounding  hail, 

Or  chaffy  grain  beneath  the  thresher's  flail : 

And  mid  these  dancing  rocks  at  once  and  ever 

It  flung  up  momently  the  sacred  river. 

Five  miles  meandering  with  a  mazy  motion  5 

Through  wood  and  dale  the  sacred  river  ran, 

Then  reach'd  the  caverns  measureless  to  man, 

And  sank  in  tumult  to  a  lifeless  ocean : 

And  'mid  this  tumult  Kubla  heard  from  far 

Ancestral  voices  prophesying  war !  10 

The  shadow  of  the  dome  of  pleasure 

Floated  midway  on  the  waves ; 

Where  was  heard  the  mingled  measure 

From  the  fountain  and  the  caves. 

It  was  a  miracle  of  rare  device,  15 

A  sunny  pleasure  dome  with  caves  of  ice! 

A  damsel  with  a  dulcimer 

In  a  vision  once  I  saw : 

It  was  an  Abyssinian  maid, 

And  on  her  dulcimer  she  play'd,  20 

Singing  of  Mount  Abora. 

Could  I  revive  within  me 

Her  symphony  and  song, 
To  such  a  deep  delight  't  would  win  me 
That  with  music  loud  and  long,  25 

I  would  build  that  dome  in  air, 
That  sunny  dome !  those  caves  of  ice ! 
And  all  who  heard  should  see  them  there, 
And  all  should  cry,  Beware !  Beware ! 
His  flashing  eyes,  his  floating  hair !  30 

Weave  a  circle  round  him  thrice, 
And  close  your  eyes  with  holy  dread, 
For  he  on  honeydew  hath  fed, 
And  drunk  the  milk  of  Paradise. 

S.  T.  Coleridge 


336  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCCXVII 
THE  INNER  VISION 

Most  sweet  it  is  with  unuplifted  eyes 
To  pace  the  ground,  if  path  be  there  or  none, 
While  a  fair  region  round  the  traveler  lies 
Which  he  forbears  again  to  look  upon ; 

Pleased  rather  with  some  soft  ideal  scene,  5 

The  work  of  Fancy,  or  some  happy  tone 
Of  meditation,  slipping  in  between 
The  beauty  coming  and  the  beauty  gone. 

—  If  Thought  and  Love  desert  us,  from  that  day 

Let  us  break  off  all  commerce  with  the  Muse :  ic 

With  Thought  and  Love  companions  of  our  way — 

Whate'er  the  senses  take  or  may  refuse,  — 
The  Mind's  internal  heaven  shall  shed  her  dews 
Of  inspiration  on  the  humblest  lay. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXVIII 
THE  REALM  OF  FANCY 

Ever  let  the  Fancy  roam ;  15 

Pleasure  never  is  at  home : 

At  a  touch  sweet  Pleasure  melteth, 

Like  to  bubbles  when  rain  pelteth ; 

Then  let  winge'd  Fancy  wander 

Through  the  thought  still  spread  beyond  her :          20 

Open  wide  the  mind's  cage  door, 

She  '11  dart  forth,  and  cloudward  soar. 

O  sweet  Fancy  !  let  her  loose ; 

Summer's  joys  are  spoiled  by  use, 

And  the  enjoying  of  the  Spring  25 

Fades  as  does  its  blossoming ; 

Autumn's  red-lipp'd  fruitage  too, 

Blushing  through  the  mist  and  dew, 


BOOK  FOURTH  337 

Cloys  with  tasting :  What  do  then  ? 

Sit  thee  by  the  ingle,  when 

The  sear  fagot  blazes  bright, 

Spirit  of  a  winter's  night ; 

When  the  soundless  earth  is  muffled,  5 

And  the  cake'd  snow  is  shuffled 

From  the  plowboy's  heavy  shoon ; 

When  the  Night  doth  meet  the  Noon 

In  a  dark  conspiracy 

To  banish  Even  from  her  sky.  10 

Sit  thee  there,  and  send  abroad, 

With  a  mind  self-overaw'd, 

Fancy,  high-commission'd : — send  her! 

She  has  vassals  to  attend  her : 

She  will  bring,  in  spite  of  frost,  15 

Beauties  that  the  earth  hath  lost ; 

She  will  bring  thee,  all  together, 

All  delights  of  summer  weather ; 

All  the  buds  and  bells  of  May, 

From  dewy  sward  or  thorny  spray;  20 

All  the  heape'd  Autumn's  wealth, 

With  a  still,  mysterious  stealth : 

She  will  mix  these  pleasures  up 

Like  three  fit  wines  in  a  cup, 

And  thou  shalt  quaff  it :  —  thou  shalt  hear  25 

Distant  harvest  carols  clear ; 

Rustle  of  the  reape*d  corn  ; 

Sweet  birds  antheming  the  morn  : 

And,  in  the  same  moment  —  hark ! 

'T  is  the  early  April  lark,  30 

Or  the  rooks,  with  busy  caw, 

Foraging  for  sticks  and  straw. 

Thou  shalt,  at  one  glance,  behold 

The  daisy  and  the  marigold ; 

White-plumed  lilies,  and  the  first  35 

Hedge-grown  primrose  that  hath  burst ; 


338  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Shaded  hyacinth,  alway 

Sapphire  queen  of  the  mid-May; 

And  every  leaf,  and  every  flower 

Pearle'd  with  the  selfsame  shower. 

Thou  shalt  see  the  field  mouse  peep  5 

Meager  from  its  celled  sleep ; 

And  the  snake  all  winter-thin 

Cast  on  sunny  bank  its  skin  ; 

Freckled  nest  eggs  thou  shalt  see 

Hatching  in  the  hawthorn  tree,  10 

When  the  hen-bird's  wing  doth  rest 

Quiet  on  her  mossy  nest ; 

Then  the  hurry  and  alarm 

When  the  beehive  casts  its  swarm ; 

Acorns  ripe  down-pattering,  15 

While  the  autumn  breezes  sing. 

Oh,  sweet  Fancy  !  let  her  loose ; 

Everything  is  spoiled  by  use : 

Where  's  the  cheek  that  doth  not  fade, 

Too  much  gazed  at  ?   Where 's  the  maid  20 

Whose  lip  mature  is  ever  new  ? 

Where  's  the  eye,  however  blue, 

Doth  not  weary  ?   Where 's  the  face 

One  would  meet  in  every  place  ? 

Where  's  the  voice,  however  soft,  25 

One  would  hear  so  very  oft  ? 

At  a  touch  sweet  Pleasure  melteth 

Like  to  bubbles  when  rain  pelteth. 

Let  then  winge'd  Fancy  find 

Thee  a  mistress  to  thy  mind :  30 

Dulcet-eyed  as  Ceres'  daughter, 

Ere  the  God  of  Torment  taught  her 

How  to  frown  and  how  to  chide ; 

With  a  waist  and  with  a  side 

White  as  Hebe's,  when  her  zone  35 


BOOK  FOURTH  339 

Slipped  its  golden  clasp,  and  down 

Fell  her  kirtle  to  her  feet, 

While  she  held  the  goblet  sweet, 

And  Jove  grew  languid.  —  Break  the  mesh 

Of  the  Fancy's  silken  leash ;  5 

Quickly  break  her  prison-string, 

And  such  joys  as  these  she  '11  bring. 

—  Let  the  winge*d  Fancy  roam, 

Pleasure  never  is  at  home. 

/.  Keats 

cccxix 
WRITTEN  IN  EARLY  SPRING 

I  heard  a  thousand  blended  notes  10 

While  in  a  grove  I  sate  reclined, 

In  that  sweet  mood  when  pleasant  thoughts 

Bring  sad  thoughts  to  the  mind. 

To  her  fair  works  did  Nature  link 

The  human  soul  that  through  me  ran ;  1 5 

And  much  it  grieved  my  heart  to  think 

What  Man  has  made  of  Man. 

Through  primrose  tufts,  in  that  sweet  bower, 

The  periwinkle  trail'd  its  wreaths ; 

And  't  is  my  faith  that  every  flower  20 

Enjoys  the  air  it  breathes. 

The  birds  around  me  hopp'd  and  play'd, 

Their  thoughts  I  cannot  measure,  — 

But  the  least  motion  which  they  made 

It  seem'd  a  thrill  of  pleasure.  25 

The  budding  twigs  spread  out  their  fan 
To  catch  the  breezy  air ; 
And  I  must  think,  do  all  I  can, 
That  there  was  pleasure  there. 


340  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

If  this  belief  from  heaven  be  sent, 
If  such  be  Nature's  holy  plan, 
Have  I  not  reason  to  lament 
What  Man  has  made  of  Man  ? 

W.  Wordsworth 

cccxx 
RUTH :  OR  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  NATURE 

When  Ruth  was  left  half  desolate  5 

Her  father  took  another  mate ; 

And  Ruth,  not  seven  years  old, 

A  slighted  child,  at  her  own  will 

Went  wandering  over  dale  and  hill, 

In  thoughtless  freedom,  bold.  10 

And  she  had  made  a  pipe  of  straw, 

And  music  from  that  pipe  could  draw 

Like  sounds  of  winds  and  floods ; 

Had  built  a  bower  upon  the  green, 

As  if  she  from  her  birth  had  been  1 5 

An  infant  of  the  woods. 

Beneath  her  father's  roof,  alone 

She  seem'd  to  live ;  her  thoughts  her  own ; 

Herself  her  own  delight : 

Pleased  with  herself,  nor  sad  nor  gay ;  20 

And  passing  thus  the  livelong  day, 

She  grew  to  woman's  height. 

There  came  a  youth  from  Georgia's  shore,  — 

A  military  casque  he  wore 

With  splendid  feathers  dressed ;  25 

He  brought  them  from  the  Cherokees ; 

The  feathers  nodded  in  the  breeze 

And  made  a  gallant  crest. 

From  Indian  blood  you  deem  him  sprung : 

But  no  !  he  spake  the  English  tongue  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  341 

And  bore  a  soldier's  name ; 
And,  when  America  was  free 
From  battle  and  from  jeopardy, 
He  'cross  the  ocean  came. 

With  hues  of  genius  on  his  cheek,  5 

In  finest  tones  the  youth  could  speak : 

—  While  he  was  yet  a  boy 

The  moon,  the  glory  of  the  sun, 

And  streams  that  murmur  as  they  run 

Had  been  his  dearest  joy.  10 

He  was  a  lovely  youth !  I  guess 

The  panther  in  the  wilderness 

Was  not  so  fair  as  he ; 

And  when  he  chose  to  sport  and  play, 

No  dolphin  ever  was  so  gay  15 

Upon  the  tropic  sea. 

Among  the  Indians  he  had  fought ; 

And  with  him  many  tales  he  brought 

Of  pleasure  and  of  fear ; 

Such  tales  as,  told  to  any  maid  20 

By  such  a  youth,  in  the  green  shade, 

Were  perilous  to  hear. 

He  told  of  girls,  a  happy  rout ! 

Who  quit  their  fold  with  dance  and  shout, 

Their  pleasant  Indian  town,  25 

To  gather  strawberries  all  day  long ; 

Returning  with  a  choral  song 

When  daylight  is  gone  down. 

He  spake  of  plants  that  hourly  change 

Their  blossoms,  through  a  boundless  range  30 

Of  intermingling  hues ; 

With  budding,  fading,  faded  flowers, 

They  stand  the  wonder  of  the  bowers 

From  morn  to  evening  dews. 


342  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

He  told  of  the  magnolia,  spread 

High  as  a  cloud,  high  overhead ! 

The  cypress  and  her  spire ; 

—  Of  flowers  that  with  one  scarlet  gleam 

Cover  a  hundred  leagues,  and  seem  5 

To  set  the  hills  on  fire. 

The  youth  of  green  savannahs  spake, 

And  many  an  endless,  endless  lake 

With  all  its  fairy  crowds 

Of  islands,  that  together  lie  10 

As  quietly  as  spots  of  sky 

Among  the  evening  clouds. 

"  How  pleasant,"  then  he  said,  "  it  were 

A  fisher  or  a  hunter  there, 

In  sunshine  or  in  shade  1 5 

To  wander  with  an  easy  mind, 

And  build  a  household  fire,  and  find 

A  home  in  every  glade  ! 

"  What  days  and  what  bright  years !    Ah  me ! 

Our  life  were  life  indeed,  with  thee  20 

So  pass'd  in  quiet  bliss  ; 

And  all  the  while,"  said  he,  "  to  know 

That  we  were  in  a  world  of  woe, 

On  such  an  earth  as  this !  " 

And  then  he  sometimes  interwove  25 

Fond  thoughts  about  a  father's  love, 

"  For  there,"  said  he,  "  are  spun 

Around  the  heart  such  tender  ties, 

That  our  own  children  to  our  eyes 

Are  dearer  than  the  sun.  30 

"  Sweet  Ruth  !  and  could  you  go  with  me 
My  helpmate  in  the  woods  to  be, 
Our  shed  at  night  to  rear ; 


BOOK  FOURTH  343 

Or  run,  my  own  adopted  bride, 
A  sylvan  huntress  at  my  side, 
And  drive  the  flying  deer ! 

"  Beloved  Ruth  !  "  —  No  more  he  said. 

The  wakeful  Ruth  at  midnight  shed  5 

A  solitary  tear : 

She  thought  again  —  and  did  agree 

With  him  to  sail  across  the  sea, 

And  drive  the  flying  deer. 

"  And  now,  as  fitting  is  and  right,  10 

We  in  the  church  our  faith  will  plight, 

A  husband  and  a  wife." 

Even  so  they  did ;  and  I  may  say 

That  to  sweet  Ruth  that  happy  day 

Was  more  than  human  life.  1 5 

Through  dream  and  vision  did  she  sink, 

Delighted  all  the  while  to  think 

That,  on  those  lonesome  floods 

And  green  savannahs,  she  should  share 

His  board  with  lawful  joy,  and  bear  20 

His  name  in  the  wild  woods. 

But,  as  you  have  before  been  told, 

This  Stripling,  sportive,  gay,  and  bold, 

And  with  his  dancing  crest 

So  beautiful,  through  savage  lands  25 

Had  roam'd  about,  with  vagrant  bands 

Of  Indians  in  the  West. 

The  wind,  the  tempest  roaring  high, 

The  tumult  of  a  tropic  sky 

Might  well  be  dangerous  food  30 

For  him,  a  youth  to  whom  was  given 

So  much  of  earth  —  so  much  of  heaven, 

And  such  impetuous  blood. 


344  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Whatever  in  those  climes  he  found 

Irregular  in  sight  or  sound 

Did  to  his  mind  impart 

A  kindred  impulse,  seem'd  allied 

To  his  own  powers,  and  justified  5 

The  workings  of  his  heart. 

Nor  less,  to  feed  voluptuous  thought, 

The  beauteous  forms  of  Nature  wrought,  — 

Fair  trees  and  gorgeous  flowers ; 

The  breezes  their  own  languor  lent;  10 

The  stars  had  feelings,  which  they  sent 

Into  those  favor'd  bowers. 

Yet,  in  his  worst  pursuits,  I  ween 

That  sometimes  there  did  intervene 

Pure  hopes  of  high  intent :  1 5 

For  passions  link'd  to  forms  so  fair 

And  stately,  needs  must  have  their  share 

Of  noble  sentiment. 

But  ill  he  lived,  much  evil  saw, 

With  men  to  whom  no  better  law  20 

Nor  better  life  was  known ; 

Deliberately  and  undeceived 

Those  wild  men's  vices  he  received, 

And  gave  them  back  his  own. 

His  genius  and  his  moral  frame  25 

Were  thus  impair'd,  and  he  became 

The  slave  of  low  desires : 

A  man  who  without  self-control 

Would  seek  what  the  degraded  soul 

Unworthily  admires.  30 

And  yet  he  with  no  feign'd  delight 
Had  woo'd  the  maiden,  day  and  night 
Had  loved  her,  night  and  morn : 


BOOK  FOURTH  345 

What  could  he  less  than  love  a  maid 
Whose  heart  with  so  much  nature  play'd  — 
So  kind  and  so  forlorn  ? 

Sometimes  most  earnestly  he  said, 

"  O  Ruth !  I  have  been  worse  than  dead ;  5 

False  thoughts,  thoughts  bold  and  vain 

Encompass'd  me  on  every  side 

When  I,  in  confidence  and  pride, 

Had  cross'd  the  Atlantic  main. 

"  Before  me  shone  a  glorious  world  10 

Fresh  as  a  banner  bright,  unfurl'd 

To  music  suddenly : 

I  look'd  upon  those  hills  and  plains, 

And  seem'd  as  if  let  loose  from  chains 

To  live  at  liberty  !  1 5 

"  No  more  of  this  —  for  now,  by  thee, 

Dear  Ruth !  more  happily  set  free, 

With  nobler  zeal  I  burn ; 

My  soul  from  darkness  is  released 

Like  the  whole  sky  when  to  the  east  20 

The  morning  doth  return." 

Full  soon  that  better  mind  was  gone ; 

No  hope,  no  wish  remain'd,  not  one,  — 

They  stirr'd  him  now  no  more ; 

New  objects  did  new  pleasure  give,  25 

And  once  again  he  wish'd  to  live 

As  lawless  as  before. 

Meanwhile,  as  thus  with  him  it  fared, 

They  for  the  voyage  were  prepared, 

And  went  to  the  seashore :  30 

But,  when  they  thither  came,  the  youth 

Deserted  his  poor  bride,  and  Ruth 

Could  never  find  him  more. 


346  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

God  help  thee,  Ruth  !  —  Such  pains  she  had 

That  she  in  half  a  year  was  mad 

And  in  a  prison  housed; 

And  there,  with  many  a  doleful  song 

Made  of  wild  words,  her  cup  of  wrong  5 

She  fearfully  caroused. 

Yet  sometimes  milder  hours  she  knew, 

Nor  wanted  sun,  nor  rain,  nor  dew, 

Nor  pastimes  of  the  May, 

—  They  all  were  with  her  in  her  cell ;  10 

And  a  clear  brook  with  cheerful  knell 

Did  o'er  the  pebbles  play. 

When  Ruth  three  seasons  thus  had  lain, 

There  came  a  respite  to  her  pain ; 

She  from  her  prison  fled ;  j  5 

But  of  the  Vagrant  none  took  thought ; 

And  where  it  liked  her  best  she  sought 

Her  shelter  and  her  bread. 

Among  the  fields  she  breathed  again : 

The  master-current  of  her  brain  20 

Ran  permanent  and  free ; 

And,  coming  to  the  banks  of  Tone, 

There  did  she  rest ;  and  dwell  alone 

Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

The  engines  of  her  pain,  the  tools  25 

That  shaped  her  sorrow,  rocks  and  pools, 

And  airs  that  gently  stir 

The  vernal  leaves  —  she  loved  them  still, 

Nor  ever  tax'd  them  with  the  ill 

Which  had  been  done  to  her.  30 

A  barn  her  Winter  bed  supplies ; 
But,  till  the  warmth  of  Summer  skies 
And  Summer  days  is  gone, 


BOOK  FOURTH  347 

(And  all  do  in  this  tale  agree) 

She  sleeps  beneath  the  greenwood  tree, 

And  other  home  hath  none. 

An  innocent  life,  yet  far  astray ! 

And  Ruth  will,  long  before  her  day,  5 

Be  broken  down  and  old. 

Sore  aches  she  needs  must  have !  but  less 

Of  mind,  than  body's  wretchedness, 

From  damp,  and  rain,  and  cold. 

If  she  is  pressed  by  want  of  food  10 

She  from  her  dwelling  in  the  wood 

Repairs  to  a  roadside  ; 

And  there  she  begs  at  one  steep  place, 

Where  up  and  down  with  easy  pace 

The  horsemen-travelers  ride.  15 

That  oaten  pipe  of  hers  is  mute 

Or  thrown  away :  but  with  a  flute 

Her  loneliness  she  cheers ; 

This  flute,  made  of  a  hemlock  stalk, 

At  evening  in  his  homeward  walk  20 

The  Quantock  woodman  hears. 

I,  too,  have  pass'd  her  on  the  hills 

Setting  her  little  water  mills 

By  spouts  and  fountains  wild  — 

Such  small  machinery  as  she  turn'd  25 

Ere  she  had  wept,  ere  she  had  mourn'd,  — 

A  young  and  happy  child ! 

Farewell !  and  when  thy  days  are  told, 

Ill-fated  Ruth !  in  hallow'd  mold 

Thy  corpse  shall  buried  be ;  30 

For  thee  a  funeral  bell  shall  ring, 

And  all  the  congregation  sing 

A  Christian  psalm  for  thee. 

W.  Words-worth 


348  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

CCCXXI 
WRITTEN  AMONG  THE  EUGANEAN  HILLS 

Many  a  green  isle  needs  must  be 

In  the  deep  wide  sea  of  Misery, 

Or  the  mariner,  worn  and  wan, 

Never  thus  could  voyage  on 

Day  and  night,  and  night  and  day,  5 

Drifting  on  his  dreary  way, 

With  the  solid  darkness  black 

Closing  round  his  vessel's  track ; 

Whilst  above,  the  sunless  sky 

Big  with  clouds,  hangs  heavily,  10 

And  behind  the  tempest  fleet 

Hurries  on  with  lightning  feet, 

Riving  sail,  and  cord,  and  plank, 

Till  the  ship  has  almost  drank 

Death  from  the  o'erbrimming  deep  ;  i  5 

And  sinks  down,  down,  like  that  sleep 

When  the  dreamer  seems  to  be 

Weltering  through  eternity ; 

And  the  dim  low  line  before 

Of  a  dark  and  distant  shore  20 

Still  recedes,  as  ever  still 

Longing  with  divided  will, 

But  no  power  to  seek  or  shun, 

He  is  ever  drifted  on 

O'er  the  unreposing  wave,  25 

To  the  haven  of  the  grave. 

Ah,  many  flowering  islands  lie 
In  the  waters  of  wide  Agony : 
To  such  a  one  this  morn  was  led 
My  bark,  by  soft  winds  piloted.  30 

—  'Mid  the  mountains  Euganean 
I  stood  listening  to  the  paean 
With  which  the  legion'd  rooks  did  hail 


BOOK  FOURTH  349 

The  Sun's  uprise  majestical : 

Gathering  round  with  wings  all  hoar, 

Through  the  dewy  mist  they  soar 

Like  gray  shades,  till  the  eastern  heaven 

Bursts ;  and  then,  —  as  clouds  of  even  5 

Fleck'd  with  fire  and  azure,  lie 

In  the  unfathomable  sky,  — 

So  their  plumes  of  purple  grain 

Starr'd  with  drops  of  golden  rain 

Gleam  above  the  sunlight  woods,  10 

As  in  silent  multitudes 

On  the  morning's  fitful  gale 

Through  the  broken  mist  they  sail; 

And  the  vapors  cloven  and  gleaming 

Follow  down  the  dark  steep  streaming,  15 

Till  all  is  bright,  and  clear,  and  still 

Round  the  solitary  hill. 

Beneath  is  spread  like  a  green  sea 
The  waveless  plain  of  Lombardy, 
Bounded  by  the  vaporous  air,  20 

Islanded  by  cities  fair ; 
Underneath  Day's  azure  eyes, 
Ocean's  nursling,  Venice  lies,  — 
A  peopled  labyrinth  of  walls, 

Amphitrite's  destined  halls,  25 

Which  her  hoary  sire  now  paves 
With  his  blue  and  beaming  waves. 
Lo !  the  sun  upsprings  behind, 
Broad,  red,  radiant,  half-reclined 
On  the  level  quivering  line  30 

Of  the  waters  crystalline ; 
And  before  that  chasm  of  light, 
As  within  a  furnace  bright, 
Column,  tower,  and  dome,  and  spire, 
Shine  like  obelisks  of  fire,  35 


350  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Pointing  with  inconstant  motion 

From  the  altar  of  dark  ocean 

To  the  sapphire-tinted  skies  ; 

As  the  flames  of  sacrifice 

From  the  marble  shrines  did  rise  5 

As  to  pierce  the  dome  of  gold 

Where  Apollo  spoke  of  old. 

Sun-girt  City  !  thou  hast  been 
Ocean's  child,  and  then  his  queen ; 
Now  is  come  a  darker  day,  10 

And  thou  soon  must  be  his  prey, 
If  the  power  that  raised  thee  here 
Hallow  so  thy  watery  bier. 
A  less  drear  ruin  then  than  now, 
With  thy  conquest-branded  brow  15 

Stooping  to  the  slave  of  slaves 
From  thy  throne  among  the  waves 
Wilt  thou  be,  —  when  the  sea  mew 
Flies,  as  once  before  it  flew, 

O'er  thine  isles  depopulate,  20 

And  all  is  in  its  ancient  state, 
Save  where  many  a  palace  gate 
With  green  sea  flowers  overgrown 
Like  a  rock  of  ocean's  own, 

Topples  o'er  the  abandon'd  sea  25 

As  the  tides  change  sullenly. 
The  fisher  on  his  watery  way 
Wandering  at  the  close  of  day, 
Will  spread  his  sail  and  seize  his  oar 
Till  he  pass  the  gloomy  shore,  30 

Lest  thy  dead  should,  from  their  sleep, 
Bursting  o'er  the  starlight  deep, 
Lead  a  rapid  mask  of  death 
O'er  the  waters  of  his  path. 


BOOK  FOURTH  351 

Noon  descends  around  me  now : 
'T  is  the  noon  of  autumn's  glow, 
When  a  soft  and  purple  mist 
Like  a  vaporous  amethyst, 

Or  an  air-dissolved  star  5 

Mingling  light  and  fragrance,  far 
From  the  curved  horizon's  bound 
To  the  point  of  heaven's  profound, 
Fills  the  overflowing  sky  ; 

And  the  plains  that  silent  lie  10 

Underneath ;  the  leaves  unsodden 
Where  the  infant  Frost  has  trodden 
With  his  morning-winged  feet 
Whose  bright  print  is  gleaming  yet ; 
And  the  red  and  golden  vines  15 

Piercing  with  their  trellised  lines 
The  rough,  dark-skirted  wilderness ; 
The  dun  and  bladed  grass  no  less, 
Pointing  from  this  hoary  tower 

In  the  windless  air ;  the  flower  20 

Glimmering  at  my  feet ;  the  line 
Of  the  olive-sandal'd  Apennine 
In  the  south  dimly  islanded ; 
And  the  Alps,  whose  snows  are  spread 
High  between  the  clouds  and  sun ;  25 

And  of  living  things  each  one ; 
And  my  spirit,  which  so  long 
Darken'd  this  swift  stream  of  song,  — 
Interpenetrated  lie 

By  the  glory  of  the  sky ;  30 

Be  it  love,  light,  harmony, 
Odor,  or  the  soul  of  all 
Which  from  heaven  like  dew  doth  fall, 
Or  the  mind  which  feeds  this  verse, 
Peopling  the  lone  universe.  35 


352  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Noon  descends,  and  after  noon 
Autumn's  evening  meets  me  soon, 
Leading  the  infantine  moon 
And  that  one  star,  which  to  her 
Almost  seems  to  minister  5 

Half  the  crimson  light  she  brings 
From  the  sunset's  radiant  springs : 
And  the  soft  dreams  of  the  morn 
(Which  like  winge'd  winds  had  borne 
To  that  silent  isle,  which  lies  10 

'Mid  remember'd  agonies, 
The  frail  bark  of  this  lone  being), 
Pass,  to  other  sufferers  fleeing, 
And  its  ancient  pilot,  Pain, 
Sits  beside  the  helm  again.  15 

Other  flowering  isles  must  be 
In  the  sea  of  Life  and  Agony : 
Other  spirits  float  and  flee 
O'er  that  gulf:  Ev'n  now,  perhaps, 
On  some  rock  the  wild  wave  wraps,  20 

With  folded  wings  they  waiting  sit 
For  my  bark,  to  pilot  it 
To  some  calm  and  blooming  cove ; 
Where  for  me,  and  those  I  love, 
May  a  windless  bower  be  built,  25 

Far  from  passion,  pain,  and  guilt, 
In  a  dell  'mid  lawny  hills 
Which  the  wild  sea  murmur  fills, 
And  soft  sunshine,  and  the  sound 
Of  old  forests  echoing  round,  30 

And  the  light  and  smell  divine 
Of  all  flowers  that  breathe  and  shine, 
—  We  may  live  so  happy  there, 
That  the  Spirits  of  the  Air 

Envying  us,  may  ev'n  entice  35 

To  our  healing  paradise 


BOOK  FOURTH  353 

The  polluting  multitude : 

But  their  rage  would  be  subdued 

By  that  clime  divine  and  calm, 

And  the  winds  whose  wings  rain  balm 

On  the  uplifted  soul,  and  leaves  5 

Under  which  the  bright  sea  heaves ; 

While  each  breathless  interval 

In  their  whisperings  musical 

The  inspired  soul  supplies 

With  its  own  deep  melodies ;  10 

And  the  Love  which  heals  all  strife 

Circling,  like  the  breath  of  life, 

All  things  in  that  sweet  abode 

With  its  own  mild  brotherhood :  — 

They,  not  it,  would  change ;  and  soon  1 5 

Every  sprite  beneath  the  moon 

Would  repent  its  envy  vain, 

And  the  Earth  grow  young  again. 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCCXXII 
ODE  TO  THE  WEST  WIND 

O  wild  West  Wind,  thou  breath  of  Autumn's  being, 

Thou,  from  whose  unseen  presence  the  leaves  dead         20 

Are  driven,  like  ghosts  from  an  enchanter  fleeing, 

Yellow,  and  black,  and  pale,  and  hectic  red, 

Pestilence-stricken  multitudes  !  O  thou 

Who  chariotest  to  their  dark  wintry  bed 

The  winge*d  seeds,  where  they  lie  cold  and  low,  25 

Each  like  a  corpse  within  its  grave,  until 

Thine  azure  sister  of  the  Spring  shall  blow 

Her  clarion  o'er  the  dreaming  earth,  and  fill 

(Driving  sweet  buds  like  flocks  to  feed  in  air) 

With  living  hues  and  odors  plain  and  hill :  30 

Wild  Spirit,  which  art  moving  everywhere ; 

Destroyer  and  Preserver ;  Hear,  oh  hear  ! 


354  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Thou  on  whose  stream,  'mid  the  steep  sky's  commotion, 
Loose  clouds  like  earth's  decaying  leaves  are  shed, 
Shook  from  the  tangled  boughs  of  heaven  and  ocean, 
Angels  of  rain  and  lightning !  there  are  spread 
On  the  blue  surface  of  thine  airy  surge,  5 

Like  the  bright  hair  uplifted  from  the  head 
Of  some  fierce  Maenad,  ev'n  from  the  dim  verge 
Of  the  horizon  to  the  zenith's  height  — 
The  locks  of  the  approaching  storm.    Thou  dirge 
Of  the  dying  year,  to  which  this  closing  night  10 

Will  be  the  dome  of  a  vast  sepulcher, 
Vaulted  with  all  thy  congregated  might 
Of  vapors,  from  whose  solid  atmosphere 
Black  rain,  and  fire,  and  hail,  will  burst :  Oh  hear ! 

Thou  who  didst  waken  from  his  summer  dreams  1 5 

The  blue  Mediterranean,  where  he  lay, 
Lull'd  by  the  coil  of  his  crystalline  streams, 
Beside  a  pumice  isle  in  Baiae's  bay, 
And  saw  in  sleep  old  palaces  and  towers 
Quivering  within  the  wave's  intenser  day,  20 

All  overgrown  with  azure  moss,  and  flowers 
So  sweet,  the  sense  faints  picturing  them !  Thou 
For  whose  path  the  Atlantic's  level  powers 
Cleave  themselves  into  chasms,  while  far  below 
The  sea-blooms  and  the  oozy  woods  which  wear  25 

The  sapless  foliage  of  the  ocean,  know 
Thy  voice,  and  suddenly  grow  gray  with  fear 
And  tremble  and  despoil  themselves  :  Oh  hear ! 

If  I  were  a  dead  leaf  thou  mightest  bear ; 
If  I  were  a  swift  cloud  to  fly  with  thee ;  30 

A  wave  to  pant  beneath  thy  power,  and  share 
The  impulse  of  thy  strength,  only  less  free 
Than  Thou,  O  uncontrollable  !  If  even 
I  were  as  in  my  boyhood,  and  could  be 
The  comrade  of  thy  wanderings  over  heaven,  35 


BOOK  FOURTH  355 

As  then,  when  to  outstrip  thy  skyey  speed 

Scarce  seem'd  a  vision,  —  I  would  ne'er  have  striven 

As  thus  with  thee  in  prayer  in  my  sore  need. 

Oh  !  lift  me  as  a  wave,  a  leaf,  a  cloud ! 

I  fall  upon  the  thorns  of  life !  I  bleed !  5 

A  heavy  weight  of  hours  has  chain'd  and  bow'd 

One  too  like  thee  —  tameless,  and  swift,  and  proud. 

Make  me  thy  lyre,  ev'n  as  the  forest  is : 
What  if  my  leaves  are  falling  like  its  own ! 
The  tumult  of  thy  mighty  harmonies  10 

Will  take  from  both  a  deep  autumnal  tone, 
Sweet  though  in  sadness.     Be  thou,  Spirit  fierce, 
My  spirit !  be  thou  me,  impetuous  one ! 
Drive  my  dead  thoughts  over  the  universe, 
Like  wither'd  leaves,  to  quicken  a  new  birth :  1 5 

And,  by  the  incantation  of  this  verse, 
Scatter,  as  from  an  unextinguish'd  hearth 
Ashes  and  sparks,  my  words  among  mankind ! 
Be  through  my  lips  to  unawaken'd  earth 
The  trumpet  of  a  prophecy !  O  Wind,  20 

If  Winter  comes,  can  Spring  be  far  behind  ? 

P.  B.  Shelley 
CCCXXIII 
NATURE  AND  THE  POET 

SUGGESTED  BY  A  PICTURE  OF  PEELE  CASTLE  IN  A  STORM 
PAINTED  BY  SlR  GEORGE  BEAUMONT 

I  was  thy  neighbor  once,  thou  rugged  Pile ! 

Four  summer  weeks  I  dwelt  in  sight  of  thee : 

I  saw  thee  every  day ;  and  all  the  while 

Thy  Form  was  sleeping  on  a  glassy  sea.  25 

So  pure  the  sky,  so  quiet  was  the  air ! 
So  like,  so  very  like,  was  day  to  day ! 
Whene'er  I  look'd,  thy  image  still  was  there ; 
It  trembled,  but  it  never  pass'd  away. 


356  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

How  perfect  was  the  calm !  It  seem'd  no  sleep, 
No  mood,  which  season  takes  away,  or  brings : 
I  could  have  fancied  that  the  mighty  Deep 
Was  even  the  gentlest  of  all  gentle  things. 

Ah  !  then  —  if  mine  had  been  the  painter's  hand  5 

To  express  what  then  I  saw ;  and  add  the  gleam, 
The  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land, 
The  consecration,  and  the  Poet's  dream,  — 

I  would  have  planted  thee,  thou  hoary  pile, 

Amid  a  world  how  different  from  this !  10 

Beside  a  sea  that  could  not  cease  to  smile ; 

On  tranquil  land,  beneath  a  sky  of  bliss. 

Thou  shouldst  have  seem'd  a  treasure  house  divine 

Of  peaceful  years ;  a  chronicle  of  heaven ;  — 

Of  all  the  sunbeams  that  did  ever  shine  1 5 

The  very  sweetest  had  to  thee  been  given. 

A  picture  had  it  been  of  lasting  ease, 

Elysian  quiet,  without  toil  or  strife ; 

No  motion  but  the  moving  tide ;  a  breeze ; 

Or  merely  silent  Nature's  breathing  life.  20 

Such,  in  the  fond  illusion  of  my  heart, 

Such  picture  would  I  at  that  time  have  made ; 

And  seen  the  soul  of  truth  in  every  part, 

A  steadfast  peace  that  might  not  be  betray'd. 

So  once  it  would  have  been,  —  't  is  so  no  more ;  25 

I  have  submitted  to  a  new  control : 

A  power  is  gone,  which  nothing  can  restore ; 

A  deep  distress  hath  humanized  my  soul. 

Not  for  a  moment  could  I  now  behold 

A  smiling  sea,  and  be  what  I  have  been :  3° 

The  feeling  of  my  loss  will  ne'er  be  old ; 

This,  which  I  know,  I  speak  with  mind  serene. 


BOOK  FOURTH  357 

Then,  Beaumont,  Friend !  who  would  have  been  the 

friend 

If  he  had  lived,  of  Him  whom  I  deplore, 
This  work  of  thine  I  blame  not,  but  commend ; 
This  sea  in  anger,  and  that  dismal  shore. 

0  't  is  a  passionate  work !  —  yet  wise  and  well,  5 
Well  chosen  is  the  spirit  that  is  here ; 

That  hulk  which  labors  in  the  deadly  swell, 
This  rueful  sky,  this  pageantry  of  fear ! 

And  this  huge  Castle,  standing  here  sublime, 

1  love  to  see  the  look  with  which  it  braves,  10 

—  Cased  in  the  unfeeling  armor  of  old  time  — 
The  lightning,  the  fierce  wind,  and  trampling  waves. 

—  Farewell,  farewell  the  heart  that  lives  alone, 
Housed  in  a  dream,  at  distance  from  the  Kind ! 

Such  happiness,  wherever  it  be  known,  1 5 

Is  to  be  pitied ;  for  't  is  surely  blind. 

But  welcome  fortitude,  and  patient  cheer, 

And  frequent  sights  of  what  is  to  be  borne ! 

Such  sights,  or  worse,  as  are  before  me  here :  — 

Not  without  hope  we  suffer  and  we  mourn.  20 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXXIV 
THE  POET'S   DREAM 

On  a  Poet's  lips  I  slept 

Dreaming  like  a  love-adept 

In  the  sound  his  breathing  kept ; 

Nor  seeks  nor  finds  he  mortal  blisses, 

But  feeds  on  the  aerial  kisses  25 

Of  shapes  that  haunt  Thought's  wildernesses. 

He  will  watch  from  dawn  to  gloom 

The  lake-reflected  sun  illume 

The  yellow  bees  in  the  ivy-bloom, 


358  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Nor  heed  nor  see  what  things  they  be  — 
But  from  these  create  he  can 
Forms  more  real  than  living  Man, 

Nurslings  of  Immortality ! 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCCXXV 
GLEN-ALMAIN,  THE  NARROW  GLEN 

In  this  still  place,  remote  from  men,  5 

Sleeps  Ossian,  in  the  Narrow  Glen ; 

In  this  still  place,  where  murmurs  on 

But  one  meek  streamlet,  only  one : 

He  sang  of  battles,  and  the  breath 

Of  stormy  war,  and  violent  death ;  10 

And  should,  methinks,  when  all  was  past, 

Have  rightfully  been  laid  at  last 

Where  rocks  were  rudely  heap'd,  and  rent 

As  by  a  spirit  turbulent ; 

Where  sights  were  rough,  and  sounds  were  wild,          1 5 

And  everything  unreconciled ; 

In  some  complaining,  dim  retreat, 

For  fear  and  melancholy  meet ; 

But  this  is  calm  ;  there  cannot  be 

A  more  entire  tranquillity.  20 

Does  then  the  Bard  sleep  here  indeed  ? 

Or  is  it  but  a  groundless  creed  ? 

What  matters  it  ?  —  I  blame  them  not 

Whose  fancy  in  this  lonely  spot 

Was  moved;  and  in  such  way  expressed  25 

Their  notion  of  its  perfect  rest. 

A  convent,  even  a  hermit's  cell, 

Would  break  the  silence  of  this  Dell : 

It  is  not  quiet,  is  not  ease ; 

But  something  deeper  far  than  these :  3° 

The  separation  that  is  here 

Is  of  the  grave ;  and  of  austere 


BOOK  FOURTH  359 

Yet  happy  feelings  of  the  dead : 
And,  therefore,  was  it  rightly  said 
That  Ossian,  last  of  all  his  race ! 
Lies  buried  in  this  lonely  place. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXXVI 

The  World  is  too  much  with  us ;  late  and  soon,  5 

Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers ; 
Little  we  see  in  Nature  that  is  ours ; 
We  have  given  our  hearts  away,  a  sordid  boon  ! 

This  Sea  that  bares  her  bosom  to  the  moon, 

The  winds  that  will  be  howling  at  all  hours  10 

And  are  upgather'd  now  like  sleeping  flowers, 

For  this,  for  everything,  we  are  out  of  tune ; 

It  moves  us  not.  —  Great  God !  I  'd  rather  be 

A  Pagan  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn,  — 

So  might  I,  standing  on  this  pleasant  lea,  15 

Have  glimpses  that  would  make  me  less  forlorn ; 
Have  sight  of  Proteus  rising  from  the  sea ; 
Or  hear  old  Triton  blow  his  wreathed  horn. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXXVII 
WITHIN  KING'S  COLLEGE  CHAPEL,  CAMBRIDGE 

Tax  not  the  royal  Saint  with  vain  expense, 

With  ill-match'd  aims  the  Architect  who  plann'd  20 

(Albeit  laboring  for  a  scanty  band 

Of  white-robed  Scholars  only)  this  immense 

And  glorious  work  of  fine  intelligence ! 

—  Give  all  thou  canst ;  high  Heaven  rejects  the  lore 

Of  nicely  calculated  less  or  more :  —  25 

So  deem'd  the  man  who  fashion'd  for  the  sense 


360  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

These  lofty  pillars,  spread  that  branching  roof 
Self-poised,  and  scoop'd  into  ten  thousand  cells 
Where  light  and  shade  repose,  where  music  dwells 

Lingering  —  and  wandering  on  as  loth  to  die ; 

Like  thoughts  whose  very  sweetness  yieldeth  proof          5 

That  they  were  born  for  immortality. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXXVIII 
ODE  ON  A  GRECIAN  URN 

Thou  still  unravish'd  bride  of  quietness, 

Thou  foster-child  of  silence  and  slow  time, 
Sylvan  historian,  who  canst  thus  express 

A  flowery  tale  more  sweetly  than  our  rhyme :  10 

What  leaf-fringed  legend  haunts  about  thy  shape 

Of  deities  or  mortals,  or  of  both, 

In  Tempe'  or  the  dales  of  Arcady  ? 
What  men  or  gods  are  these  ?  WThat  maidens  loth  ? 

What  mad  pursuit  ?  What  struggle  to  escape  ?  15 

What  pipes  and  timbrels  ?  What  wild  ecstasy  ? 

Heard  melodies  are  sweet,  but  those  unheard 

Are  sweeter ;  therefore,  ye  soft  pipes,  play  on ; 
Not  to  the  sensual  ear,  but,  more  endear'd, 

Pipe  to  the  spirit  ditties  of  no  tone :  20 

Fair  youth,  beneath  the  trees,  thou  canst  not  leave 

Thy  song,  nor  ever  can  those  trees  be  bare ; 
Bold  Lover,  never,  never  canst  thou  kiss, 
Though  winning  near  the  goal  —  yet,  do  not  grieve ; 

She  cannot  fade,  though  thou  hast  not  thy  bliss,  25 

Forever  wilt  thou  love,  and  she  be  fair ! 

Ah,  happy,  happy  boughs  !  that  cannot  shed 
Your  leaves,  nor  ever  bid  the  Spring  adieu ; 

And,  happy  melodist,  unwearied, 

Forever  piping  songs  forever  new;  30 


BOOK  FOURTH  361 

More  happy  love !  more  happy,  happy  love  ! 
Forever  warm  and  still  to  be  enjoy 'd, 

Forever  panting,  and  forever  young ; 
All  breathing  human  passion  far  above, 

That  leaves  a  heart  high-sorrowful  and  cloy'd,  5 

A  burning  forehead,  and  a  parching  tongue. 

Who  are  these  coming  to  the  sacrifice  ? 

To  what  green  altar,  O  mysterious  priest, 
Lead'st  thou  that  heifer  lowing  at  the  skies, 

And  all  her  silken  flanks  with  garlands  drest  ?  10 

What  little  town  by  river  or  seashore, 

Or  mountain-built  with  peaceful  citadel, 

Is  emptied  of  this  folk,  this  pious  morn  ? 
And,  little  town,  thy  streets  forevermore 

Will  silent  be  ;  and  not  a  soul  to  tell  1 5 

Why  thou  art  desolate,  can  e'er  return. 

O  Attic  shape  !  Fair  attitude  !  with  brede 

Of  marble  men  and  maidens  overwrought, 
With  forest  branches  and  the  trodden  weed ; 

Thou,  silent  form,  dost  tease  us  out  of  thought  20 

As  doth  eternity :  Cold  Pastoral ! 

When  old  age  shall  this  generation  waste, 

Thou  shalt  remain,  in  midst  of  other  woe 
Than  ours,  a  friend  to  man,  to  whom  thou  say'st, 

"  Beauty  is  truth,  truth  beauty,"  —  that  is  all  25 

Ye  know  on  earth,  and  all  ye  need  to  know. 

/.  Keats 

cccxxix 
YOUTH  AND  AGE 

Verse,  a  breeze  'mid  blossoms  straying, 
Where  Hope  clung  feeding,  like  a  bee  — 
Both  were  mine  !  Life  went  a-maying 

With  Nature,  Hope,  and  Poesy,  30 

When  I  was  young ! 


362  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

When  I  was  young  ?  —  Ah,  woeful  when ! 

Ah !  for  the  change  'twixt  Now  and  Then ! 

This  breathing  house  not  built  with  hands, 

This  body  that  does  me  grievous  wrong, 

O'er  aery  cliffs  and  glittering  sands  5 

How  lightly  then  it  flash'd  along : 

Like  those  trim  skiffs,  unknown  of  yore, 

On  winding  lakes  and  rivers  wide, 

That  ask  no  aid  of  sail  or  oar, 

That  fear  no  spite  of  wind  or  tide !  10 

Naught  cared  this  body  for  wind  or  weather 

When  Youth  and  I  lived  in  't  together. 

Flowers  are  lovely ;  Love  is  flowerlike ; 
Friendship  is  a  sheltering  tree ; 

O  !  the  joys,  that  came  down  showerlike,  1 5 

Of  Friendship,  Love,  and  Liberty, 

Ere  I  was  old  ! 

Ere  I  was  old?  Ah  woeful  Ere, 
Which  tells  me,  Youth  's  no  longer  here ! 

0  Youth  !  for  years  so  many  and  sweet,  20 
'T  is  known  that  Thou  and  I  were  one, 

1  '11  think  it  but  a  fond  conceit  — 
It  cannot  be,  that  Thou  art  gone ! 
Thy  vesper  bell  hath  not  yet  toll'd :  — 

And  thou  wert  aye  a  masker  bold !  25 

What  strange  disguise  hast  now  put  on 

To  make  believe  that  Thou  art  gone  ? 

I  see  these  locks  in  silvery  slips, 

This  drooping  gait,  this  alter'd  size : 

But  Springtide  blossoms  on  thy  lips,  30 

And  tears  take  sunshine  from  thine  eyes ! 

Life  is  but  Thought :  so  think  I  will 

That  Youth  and  I  are  housemates  still. 

Dewdrops  are  the  gems  of  morning, 
But  the  tears  of  mournful  eve !  35 


BOOK  FOURTH  363 

Where  no  hope  is,  life  's  a  warning 
That  only  serves  to  make  us  grieve 

When  we  are  old : 

—  That  only  serves  to  make  us  grieve 
With  oft  and  tedious  taking-leave,  5 

Like  some  poor  nigh-related  guest 
That  may  not  rudely  be  dismist, 
Yet  hath  outstay'd  his  welcome  while, 
And  tells  the  jest  without  the  smile. 

S.  T.  Coleridge 

CCCXXX 
THE  TWO  APRIL  MORNINGS 

We  walk'd  along,  while  bright  and  red  10 

Uprose  the  morning  sun  ; 

And  Matthew  stopp'd,  he  look'd,  and  said 

"  The  will  of  God  be  done !  " 

A  village  schoolmaster  was  he, 

With  hair  of  glittering  gray ;  1 5 

As  blithe  a  man  as  you  could  see 

On  a  spring  holiday. 

And  on  that  morning,  through  the  grass 

And  by  the  steaming  rills 

We  travel'd  merrily,  to  pass  20 

A  day  among  the  hills. 

"  Our  work,"  said  I,  "  was  well  begun ; 

Then,  from  thy  breast  what  thought, 

Beneath  so  beautiful  a  sun, 

So  sad  a  sigh  has  brought?  "  25 

A  second  time  did  Matthew  stop ; 
And  fixing  still  his  eye 
Upon  the  eastern  mountain  top, 
To  me  he  made  reply : 


364  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

'c  Yon  cloud  with  that  long  purple  cleft 
Brings  fresh  into  my  mind 
A  day  like  this,  which  I  have  left 
Full  thirty  years  behind. 

"  And  just  above  yon  slope  of  corn  5 

Such  colors,  and  no  other, 
Were  in  the  sky  that  April  morn, 
Of  this  the  very  brother. 

"  With  rod  and  line  I  sued  the  sport 

Which  that  sweet  season  gave,  10 

And  to  the  churchyard  come,  stopp'd  short 

Beside  my  daughter's  grave. 

"  Nine  summers  had  she  scarcely  seen, 

The  pride  of  all  the  vale ; 

And  then  she  sang,  —  she  would  have  been  15 

A  very  nightingale. 

"  Six  feet  in  earth  my  Emma  lay ; 

And  yet  I  loved  her  more  — 

For  so  it  seem'd — than  till  that  day 

I  e'er  had  loved  before.  20 

"  And  turning  from  her  grave,  I  met, 
Beside  the  churchyard  yew, 
A  blooming  Girl,  whose  hair  was  wet 
With  points  of  morning  dew. 

"  A  basket  on  her  head  she  bare ;  25 

Her  brow  was  smooth  and  white : 
To  see  a  child  so  very  fair, 
It  was  a  pure  delight ! 

"  No  fountain  from  its  rocky  cave 

E'er  tripp'd  with  foot  so  free  ;  30 

She  seem'd  as  happy  as  a  wave 

That  dances  on  the  sea. 


BOOK  FOURTH  365 

"  There  came  from  me  a  sigh  of  pain 
Which  I  could  ill  confine ; 
I  look'd  at  her,  and  look'd  again : 
And  did  not  wish  her  mine !  " 

—  Matthew  is  in  his  grave,  yet  now  5 

Methinks  I  see  him  stand 

As  at  that  moment,  with  a  bough 

Of  wilding  in  his  hand. 

W.  Wordsworth 

cccxxxi 

THE  FOUNTAIN 
A  CONVERSATION 

We  talk'd  with  open  heart,  and  tongue 
Affectionate  and  true,  10 

A  pair  of  friends,  though  I  was  young, 
And  Matthew  seventy-two. 

We  lay  beneath  a  spreading  oak, 

Beside  a  mossy  seat ; 

And  from  the  turf  a  fountain  broke  1 5 

And  gurgled  at  our  feet. 

"  Now,  Matthew  !  "  said  I,  "  let  us  match 

This  water's  pleasant  tune 

With  some  old  border-song,  or  catch 

That  suits  a  summer's  noon ;  20 

"  Or  of  the  church  clock  and  the  chimes 
Sing  here  beneath  the  shade 
That  half-mad  thing  of  witty  rhymes 
Which  you  last  April  made !  " 

In  silence  Matthew  lay,  and  eyed  25 

The  spring  beneath  the  tree  ; 
And  thus  the  dear  old  man  replied, 
The  gray-hair'd  man  of  glee  : 


366  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

"  No  check,  no  stay,  this  Streamlet  fears, 
How  merrily  it  goes  ! 
'T  will  murmur  on  a  thousand  years 
And  flow  as  now  it  flows. 

"  And  here,  on  this  delightful  day,  5 

I  cannot  choose  but  think 
How  oft,  a  vigorous  man,  I  lay 
Beside  this  fountain's  brink. 

"  My  eyes  are  dim  with  childish  tears, 

My  heart  is  idly  stirr'd,  10 

For  the  same  sound  is  in  my  ears 

Which  in  those  days  I  heard. 

"  Thus  fares  it  still  in  our  decay  : 

And  yet  the  wiser  mind 

Mourns  less  for  what  Age  takes  away,  15 

Than  what  it  leaves  behind. 

"  The  blackbird  amid  leafy  trees, 

The  lark  above  the  hill, 

Let  loose  their  carols  when  they  please, 

Are  quiet  when  they  will.  20 

"  With  Nature  never  do  they  wage 
A  foolish  strife ;  they  see 
A  happy  youth,  and  their  old  age 
Is  beautiful  and  free  : 

"  But  we  are  press'd  by  heavy  laws ;  25 

And  often,  glad  no  more, 

We  wear  a  face  of  joy,  because 

We  have  been  glad  of  yore. 

"If  there  be  one  who  need  bemoan 

His  kindred  laid  in  earth,  30 

The  household  hearts  that  were  his  own,  — 

It  is  the  man  of  mirth. 


BOOK  FOURTH  367 

11  My  days,  my  friend,  are  almost  gone, 
My  life  has  been  approved, 
And  many  love  me  ;  but  by  none 
Am  I  enough  beloved." 

"  Now  both  himself  and  me  he  wrongs,  $ 

The  man  who  thus  complains  ! 
I  live  and  sing  my  idle  songs 
Upon  these  happy  plains  : 

"  And  Matthew,  for  thy  children  dead 

I  '11  be  a  son  to  thee  !  "  10 

At  this  he  grasp'd  my  hand  and  said, 

"  Alas  !  that  cannot  be." 

—  We  rose  up  from  the  fountain  side ; 

And  down  the  smooth  descent 

Of  the  green  sheep  track  did  we  glide ;  1 5 

And  through  the  wood  we  went ; 

And  ere  we  came  to  Leonard's  rock 
He  sang  those  witty  rhymes 
About  the  crazy  old  church  clock, 
And  the  bewilder'd  chimes.  20 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXXXII 
THE  RIVER  OF  LIFE 

The  more  we  live,  more  brief  appear 

Our  life's  succeeding  stages  : 
A  day  to  childhood  seems  a  year, 

And  years  like  passing  ages. 

The  gladsome  current  of  our  youth,  25 

Ere  passion  yet  disorders, 
Steals  lingering  like  a  river  smooth 

Along  its  grassy  borders. 

But  as  the  careworn  cheek  grows  wan, 

And  sorrow's  shafts  fly  thicker,  30 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Ye  Stars,  that  measure  life  to  man, 
Why  seem  your  courses  quicker? 

When  joys  have  lost  their  bloom  and  breath 

And  life  itself  is  vapid, 
Why,  as  we  reach  the  Falls  of  Death,  5 

Feel  we  its  tide  more  rapid  ? 

It  may  be  strange  —  yet  who  would  change 

Time's  course  to  slower  speeding, 
When  one  by  one  our  friends  have  gone 

And  left  our  bosoms  bleeding  ?  10 

Heaven  gives  our  years  of  fading  strength 

Indemnifying  fleetness ; 
And  those  of  youth,  a  seeming  length, 

Proportion'd  to  their  sweetness. 

T.  Campbell 

CCCXXXIII 
THE  HUMAN  SEASONS 

Four  Seasons  fill  the  measure  of  the  year ;  1 5 

There  are  four  seasons  in  the  mind  of  man : 
He  has  his  lusty  Spring,  when  fancy  clear 
Takes  in  all  beauty  with  an  easy  span : 

He  has  his  Summer,  when  luxuriously 

Spring's  honey'd  cud  of  youthful  thought  he  loves        20 

To  ruminate,  and  by  such  dreaming  high 

Is  nearest  unto  heaven  :  quiet  coves 

His  soul  has  in  its  Autumn,  when  his  wings 

He  furleth  close ;  contented  so  to  look 

On  mists  in  idleness  —  to  let  fair  things  25 

Pass  by  unheeded  as  a  threshold  brook. 

He  has  his  Winter  too  of  pale  misfeature, 
Or  else  he  would  forego  his  mortal  nature. 

/.  Keats 


BOOK  FOURTH  369 

CCCXXXIV 

A  DIRGE 

Rough  wind,  that  meanest  loud 

Grief  too  sad  for  song ; 
Wild  wind,  when  sullen  cloud 

Knells  all  the  night  long ; 

Sad  storm  whose  tears  are  vain,  5 

Bare  woods  whose  branches  stain, 
Deep  caves  and  dreary  main,  — 

Wail  for  the  world's  wrong ! 

P.  B.  Shelley 

cccxxxv 
THRENOS 

O  World!  O  Life!  O  Time! 

On  whose  last  steps  I  climb,  10 

Trembling  at  that  where  I  had  stood  before ; 
When  will  return  the  glory  of  your  prime  ? 
No  more  —  Oh,  nevermore ! 

Out  of  the  day  and  night 

A  joy  has  taken  flight :  1 5 

Fresh  spring,  and  summer,  and  winter  hoar 
Move  my  faint  heart  with  grief,  but  with  delight 
No  more  —  Oh,  nevermore ! 

P.  B.  Shelley 

CCCXXXVI 
THE  TROSACHS 

There 's  not  a  nook  within  this  solemn  Pass, 
But  were  an  apt  confessional  for  One  20 

Taught  by  his  summer  spent,  his  autumn  gone, 
That  Life  is  but  a  tale  of  morning  grass 

Wither'd  at  eve.    From  scenes  of  art  which  chase 
That  thought  away,  turn,  and  with  watchful  eyes     . 


370  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Feed  it  'mid  Nature's  old  felicities, 

Rocks,  rivers,  and  smooth  lakes  more  clear  than  glass 

Untouch'd,  unbreathed  upon  :  —  Thrice  happy  quest, 

If  from  a  golden  perch  of  aspen  spray 

(October's  workmanship  to  rival  May),  5 

The  pensive  warbler  of  the  ruddy  breast 
That  moral  sweeten  by  a  heaven-taught  lay, 
Lulling  the  year,  with  all  its  cares,  to  rest ! 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXXXVII 

My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 

A  rainbow  in  the  sky :  10 

So  was  it  when  my  life  began, 
So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man, 
So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old 

Or  let  me  die ! 

The  Child  is  father  of  the  Man :  1 5 

And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety. 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXXXVIII 

ODE  ON  INTIMATIONS  OF  IMMORTALITY  FROM 
RECOLLECTIONS  OF  EARLY  CHILDHOOD 

There  was  a  time  when  meadow,  grove,  and  stream, 
The  earth,  and  every  common  sight 

To  me  did  seem  20 

Apparel'd  in  celestial  light, 
The  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a  dream. 
It  is  not  now  as  it  hath  been  of  yore ;  — 
Turn  wheresoe'er  I  may, 

By  night  or  day,  25 

The  things  which  I  have  seen  I  now  can  see  no  more. 


BOOK  FOURTH  371 

The  rainbow  comes  and  goes, 

And  lovely  is  the  rose ; 

The  moon  doth  with  delight 
Look  round  her  when  the  heavens  are  bare ; 

Waters  on  a  starry  night  5 

Are  beautiful  and  fair ; 
The  sunshine  is  a  glorious  birth ; 
But  yet  I  know,  where'er  I  go, 
That  there  hath  passed  away  a  glory  from  the  earth. 

Now,  while  the  birds  thus  sing  a  joyous  song,  10 

And  while  the  young  lambs  bound 

As  to  the  tabor's  sound, 
To  me  alone  there  came  a  thought  of  grief : 
A  timely  utterance  gave  that  thought  relief, 

And  I  again  am  strong.  15 

The  cataracts  blow  their  trumpets  from  the  steep ;  — 
No  more  shall  grief  of  mine  the  season  wrong : 
I  hear  the  echoes  through  the  mountains  throng, 
The  winds  come  to  me  from  the  fields  of  sleep, 

And  all  the  earth  is  gay ;  20 

Land  and  sea 
Give  themselves  up  to  jollity, 

And  with  the  heart  of  May 
Doth  every  beast  keep  holiday ;  — 

Thou  child  of  joy  25 

Shout  round  me,  let  me  hear  thy  shouts,  thou  happy 
Shepherd  boy ! 

Ye  blessed  Creatures,  I  have  heard  the  call 

Ye  to  each  other  make ;  I  see 
The  heavens  laugh  with  you  in  your  jubilee ; 

My  heart  is  at  your  festival,  30 

My  head  hath  its  coronal, 
The  fullness  of  your  bliss,  I  feel  —  I  feel  it  all 


372  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Oh  evil  day !    if  I  were  sullen 
While  Earth  herself  is  adorning 
This  sweet  May  morning ; 
And  the  children  are  culling 

On  every  side  5 

In  a  thousand  valleys  far  and  wide, 
Fresh  flowers ;  while  the  sun  shines  warm 
And  the  babe  leaps  up  on  his  mother's  arm :  — 
I  hear,  I  hear,  with  joy  I  hear ! 
—  But  there  's  a  tree,  of  many,  one,  10 

A  single  field  which  I  have  look'd  upon, 
Both  of  them  speak  of  something  that  is  gone : 
The  pansy  at  my  feet 
Doth  the  same  tale  repeat : 

Whither  is  fled  the  visionary  gleam  ?  1 5 

Where  is  it  now,  the  glory  and  the  dream  ? 

Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting ; 
The  Soul  that  rises  with  us,  our  life's  Star, 
Hath  had  elsewhere  its  setting 

And  cometh  from  afar ;  20 

Not  in  entire  forgetfulness, 
And  not  in  utter  nakedness, 
But  trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  we  come 

From  God,  who  is  our  home : 

Heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy!  25 

Shades  of  the  prison  house  begin  to  close 

Upon  the  growing  Boy, 
But  he  beholds  the  light,  and  whence  it  flows, 

He  sees  it  in  his  joy  ; 

The  Youth,  who  daily  farther  from  the  east  30 

Must  travel,  still  is  Nature's  priest, 
And  by  the  vision  splendid 
Is  on  his  way  attended ; 
At  length  the  Man  perceives  it  die  away, 
And  fade  into  the  light  of  common  day.  35 


BOOK  FOURTH  373 

Earth  fills  her  lap  with  pleasures  of  her  own ; 
Yearnings  she  hath  in  her  own  natural  kind, 
And,  even  with  something  of  a  mother's  mind 

And  no  unworthy  aim, 

The  homely  nurse  doth  all  she  can  5 

To  make  her  foster-child,  her  inmate,  Man, 

Forget  the  glories  he  hath  known, 
And  that  imperial  palace  whence  he  came. 

Behold  the  Child  among  his  newborn  blisses, 

A  six  years'  darling  of  a  pigmy  size !  10 

See,  where  'mid  work  of  his  own  hand  he  lies, 

Fretted  by  sallies  of  his  mother's  kisses, 

With  light  upon  him  from  his  father's  eyes ! 

See,  at  his  feet,  some  little  plan  or  chart, 

Some  fragment  from  his  dream  of  human  life,  1 5 

Shaped  by  himself  with  newly  learned  art ; 

A  wedding  or  a  festival, 

A  mourning  or  a  funeral ; 

And  this  hath  now  his  heart, 

And  unto  this  he  frames  his  song :  20 

Then  will  he  fit  his  tongue 
To  dialogues  of  business,  love,  or  strife ; 

But  it  will  not  be  long 

Ere  this  be  thrown  aside, 

And  with  new  joy  and  pride  25 

The  little  actor  cons  another  part ; 
Filling  from  time  to  time  his  "  humorous  stage  " 
With  all  the  Persons,  down  to  palsied  Age, 
That  life  brings  with  her  in  her  equipage ; 

As  if  his  whole  vocation  30 

Were  endless  imitation. 

Thou,  whose  exterior  semblance  doth  belie 

Thy  soul's  immensity ; 
Thou  best  philosopher,  who  yet  dost  keep 
Thy  heritage,  thou  eye  among  the  blind,  35 


374  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

That,  deaf  and  silent,  read'st  the  eternal  deep, 
Haunted  forever  by  the  eternal  Mind,  — 

Mighty  Prophet !  Seer  blest ! 

On  whom  those  truths  do  rest 

Which  we  are  toiling  all  our  lives  to  find,  5 

In  darkness  lost,  the  darkness  of  the  grave ; 
Thou,  over  whom  thy  Immortality 
Broods  like  the  day,  a  master  o'er  a  slave, 
A  Presence  which  is  not  to  be  put  by ; 

Thou  little  child,  yet  glorious  in  the  might  10 

Of  heaven-born  freedom  on  thy  being's  height, 
Why  with  such  earnest  pains  dost  thou  provoke 
The  years  to  bring  the  inevitable  yoke, 
Thus  blindly  with  thy  blessedness  at  strife  ? 
Full  soon  thy  soul  shall  have  her  earthly  freight,  15 

And  custom  lie  upon  thee  with  a  weight 
Heavy  as  frost,  and  deep  almost  as  life  ! 

O  joy  !  that  in  our  embers 
Is  something  that  doth  live, 

That  Nature  yet  remembers  20 

What  was  so  fugitive ! 

The  thought  of  our  past  years  in  me  doth  breed 
Perpetual  benediction :  not  indeed 
For  that  which  is  most  worthy  to  be  blest, 
Delight  and  liberty,  the  simple  creed  25 

Of  Childhood,  whether  busy  or  at  rest, 
With  new-fledged  hope  still  fluttering  in  his  breast :  — 
Not  for  these  I  raise 
The  song  of  thanks  and  praise ; 

But  for  those  obstinate  questionings  30 

Of  sense  and  outward  things, 
Fallings  from  us,  vanishings ; 
Blank  misgivings  of  a  creature 
Moving  about  in  worlds  not  realized, 

High  instincts,  before  which  our  mortal  nature  35 

Did  tremble  like  a  guilty  thing  surprised : 


BOOK  FOURTH  375 

But  for  those  first  affections, 
Those  shadowy  recollections, 

Which,  be  they  what  they  may, 
Are  yet  the  fountain-light  of  all  our  day, 
Are  yet  a  master-light  of  all  our  seeing ;  5 

Uphold  us,  cherish,  and  have  power  to  make 
Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 
Of  the  eternal  Silence :  truths  that  wake, 

To  perish  never ; 
Which  neither  listlessness,  nor  mad  endeavor,  10 

Nor  man  nor  boy 
Nor  all  that  is  at  enmity  with  joy, 
Can  utterly  abolish  or  destroy ! 

Hence,  in  a  season  of  calm  weather 

Though  inland  far  we  be,  15 

Our  souls  have  sight  of  that  immortal  sea 

Which  brought  us  hither ; 
Can  in  a  moment  travel  thither  — 
And  see  the  children  sport  upon  the  shore, 
And  hear  the  mighty  waters  rolling  evermore.  20 

Then,  sing  ye  birds,  sing,  sing  a  joyous  song ! 

And  let  the  young  lambs  bound 

As  to  the  tabor's  sound  ! 
We,  in  thought,  will  join  your  throng 

Ye  that  pipe  and  ye  that  play,  25 

Ye  that  through  your  hearts  to-day 

Feel  the  gladness  of  the  May ! 

What  though  the  radiance  which  was  once  so  bright 
Be  now  forever  taken  from  my  sight, 

Though  nothing  can  bring  back  the  hour  30 

Of  splendor  in  the  grass,  of  glory  in  the  flower ; 

We  will  grieve  not,  rather  find 

Strength  in  what  remains  behind ; 

In  the  primal  sympathy 

Which  having  been  must  ever  be ;  35 

In  the  soothing  thoughts  that  spring 


376  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Out  of  human  suffering ; 
In  the  faith  that  looks  through  death, 
In  years  that  bring  the  philosophic  mind. 

And  O,  ye  Fountains,  Meadows,  Hills,  and  Groves, 

Forebode  not  any  severing  of  our  loves  !  5 

Yet  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  feel  your  might ; 

I  only  have  relinquish'd  one  delight 

To  live  beneath  your  more  habitual  sway : 

I  love  the  brooks  which  down  their  channels  fret 

Even  more  than  when  I  tripp'd  lightly  as  they ;  10 

The  innocent  brightness  of  a  newborn  day 

Is  lovely  yet ; 

The  clouds  that  gather  round  the  setting  sun 
Do  take  a  sober  coloring  from  an  eye 

That  hath  kept  watch  o'er  man's  mortality ;  1 5 

Another  race  hath  been,  and  other  palms  are  won. 
Thanks  to  the  human  heart  by  which  we  live, 
Thanks  to  its  tenderness,  its  joys,  and  fears, 
To  me  the  meanest  flower  that  blows  can  give 
Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears.  20 

W.  Wordsworth 

CCCXXXIX 

Music,  when  soft  voices  die, 
Vibrates  in  the  memory  — 
Odors,  when  sweet  violets  sicken, 
Live  within  the  sense  they  quicken. 

Rose  leaves,  when  the  rose  is  dead,  25 

Are  heap'd  for  the  beloved's  bed ; 

And  so  thy  thoughts,  when  Thou  art  gone, 

Love  itself  shall  slumber  on. 

P.  B.  Shelley 


BIOGRAPHICAL    NOTES 


FRANCIS  TURNER  PALGRAVE,  the  anthologist  of  the  "Golden  Treas* 
ury,"  was  born  at  Great  Yarmouth,  September  28,  1824.  His  father  was 
Sir  Francis  Palgrave,  a  noted  historian  and  antiquary,  and  the  home  in 
which  he  grew  up  was  one  of  great  culture  as  well  as  scholarship.  The 
remarkable  taste,  therefore,  which  made  so  valuable  the  selection  of  the 
poems  in  the  M  Golden  Treasury,"  was  the  inheritance  of  his  family.  After 
five  years  at  Charterhouse  he  went  to  Balliol  College,  Oxford,  where 
he  distinguished  himself  and  won  an  Exeter  fellowship. 

For  some  months  in  1846  Palgrave  was  a  private  secretary  to  W.  E. 
Gladstone  ;  from  1850  to  1855  he  was  vice  principal  of  a  training  school 
for  teachers  at  Twickenham,  where  Tennyson  then  lived.  From  this 
time  dates  their  close  friendship.  It  was  on  one  of  many  summer  trips 
together  that  Palgrave  evolved  the  plan  of  his  great  anthology.  In  his 
recollections  of  Tennyson,  in  the  "  Memoir "  by  Hallam  Tennyson, 
he  says : 

"  I  had  put  the  scheme  of  my  '  Golden  Treasury '  before  him  during 
a  walk  near  the  Land's  End  in  the  late  summer  of  1860,  and  he  encour- 
aged me  to  proceed,  barring  only  any  poems  by  himself  from  insertion 
in  an  anthology  whose  title  claimed  excellence  for  its  contents.  And 
at  the  Christmastide  following,  the  gathered  materials,  already  submitted 
to  the  judgment  of  two  friends  of  taste  (one,  the  very  able  sculptor, 
T.  Woolner,  lately  taken  from  us),  were  laid  before  Tennyson  for 
final  judgment." 

The  anthology  was  published  in  1861,  and  took  its  place  among 
lyrical  collections  as  second  only  to  the  "  Greek  Anthology."  Until 
1884  Palgrave  was  an  industrious  public  servant  in  the  education  de- 
partment of  the  government.  He  had  also  written  volumes  of  verse  and 
had  made  other  less  famous  anthologies.  From  1885  to  1895  ^e  was 
professor  of  poetry  at  Oxford,  and  his  last  publication  was  his  well- 
known  collection  of  University  lectures,  "  Landscape  in  Poetry."  He 
died  October  24,  1897. 


377 


378  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

ANNA  LETITIA  AIKIN  was  born  in  Leicestershire  in  1743.  Her 
reputation  as  a  poet  dates  from  1773.  After  her  marriage  to  Mr.  Bar- 
bauld  she  and  her  husband  kept  a  school,  to  which  her  genius  gave 
something  like  fame.  For  the  school  she  wrote  her  best  work,  the 
"  Hymns  in  Prose  for  Children."  She  died  in  1825  at  Stoke  Newing- 
ton.  These  lines,  No.  207,  taken  from  her  w  Ode  to  Life,"  were  greatly 
admired  by  Wordsworth. 

SIR  WILLIAM  ALEXANDER  was  born  at  Menstrie,  Scotland,  probably 
in  1567.  He  was  private  tutor  to  the  king's  sons,  and  assisted  James  in 
a  metrical  version  of  the  Psalms.  Scholar,  courtier,  poet,  —  he  was  also 
a  trusted  statesman.  Toward  the  end  of  his  life  he  was  Secretary  of 
State  for  Scotland,  having  been  raised  to  the  peerage  as  Earl  of  Sterling. 
He  died  in  London  in  1640. 

LADY  ANNE  BARNARD,  eldest  daughter  of  James  Lindsay,  fifth  earl 
of  Balcarres,  was  born  December  8,  1750.  She  was  early  introduced  to 
the  literary  life  of  Edinburgh,  and  met  Dr.  Johnson  on  his  visit  there 
in  1773.  For  a  while  she  lived  with  a  sister  in  London,  and  there  mar- 
ried, in  1793,  Andrew  Barnard,  son  of  Thomas,  Bishop  of  Limerick. 
Her  first  husband  died  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  in  1807.  She  returned 
to  London,  and  five  years  later  married  Sir  James  Bland  Burges. 
Sheridan  and  Burke  were  among  her  friends.  She  had  written  "Auld 
Robin  Gray  "  anonymously  in  1771,  and  though  it  became  very  popular, 
its  authorship  was  not  generally  known  till  Scott  revealed  it  incidentally 
in  "The  Pirate,"  1823.  Lady  Anne  then  wrote  Scott  an  account  of  its 
composition,  which  he  edited  and  published  for  the  Bannatyne  Club  in 
1824.  She  died  the  following  year,  May  6. 

RICHARD  BARNFIELD  was  born  at  Norbury,  Shropshire,  and  was  bap- 
tized June  13,  1574.  He  was  educated  at  Brasenose  College,  Oxford. 
This  poem,  No.  45,  which  in  a  longer  form  appeared  in  "  The  Passionate 
Pilgrim,"  and  was  attributed  to  Shakespeare,  is  in  Barnfield's  tf  Poems  in 
Divers  Humours,"  1598.  As  it  is  printed  here,  it  appeared  in  "  England's 
Helicon,"  1600,  over  the  name  ft  Ignoto."  Barnfield  died  at  Stone, 
Staffordshire,  March,  1627. 

FRANCIS  BEAUMONT,  associated  in  English  poetry  with  John  Fletcher, 
was  born  at  Grace-Dieu  in  Leicestershire,  in  1 584.  Little  is  known  of 
him  except  that  he  was  for  a  time  at  Oxford  and  at  the  Inner  Temple, 
that  for  a  while  he  lived  with  Fletcher  in  London,  and  that  he  married 
in  1613  and  died  March  6,  1616. 

WILLIAM  BLAKE,  poet  and  engraver,  was  born  of  an  eccentric  family 
in  London,  November  28, 1757.  He  was  a  passionate,  strange  child,  dis- 
posed to  see  visions.  He  became  a  remarkable  illustrator  of  imaginative 
poems ;  his  designs  for  the  Book  of  Job  are  his  masterpiece.  His  own 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES  379 

poems  he  illustrated  with  singular  energy  and  grandeur.  He  was  influ- 
enced by  Swedenborg,  and  much  of  his  writing  shows,  besides,  a  tend- 
ency to  insanity.  His  memorable  work  for  the  general  public  is  chiefly 
in  "The  Songs  of  Innocence,"  1789,  and  "  The  Songs  of  Experience," 
1794.  He  died  in  London,  August  12,  1827. 

ROBERT  BURNS,  best  loved  of  modern  British  poets,  was  born  at 
Alloway,  Ayrshire,  January  25,  1759.  He  was  brought  up  a  farmer,  in 
poverty,  but  his  mind  was  stored  with  old  Scotch  songs.  His  genius  for 
love-making  was  his  reason  for  writing  his  first  songs  ;  his  independence 
of  spirit  led  him  to  make  his  satires  on  the  Church  and  on  conventional 
authority.  Besides  ranking  as  perhaps  the  most  passionate  of  modern 
lyrists  and  one  of  the  best  of  satirists,  he  is  also  distinguished  as  a  real- 
istic painter  of  Scottish  life.  His  first  volume  of  poems,  1786,  brought 
him  immediate  fame.  Through  the  weakness  of  his  character  his  last 
years  were  unhappy.  He  died  at  Dumfries,  July  21,  1796. 

GEORGE  GORDON  BYRON,  Lord  Byron,  was  born  in  London,  Jan- 
uary 22,  1788.  After  an  unhappy  boyhood  he  was  educated  at  Harrow 
and  at  Cambridge.  In  1807  he  published  his  first  book,  "  Hours  of 
Idleness,"  and  two  years  later  replied  to  his  critics  in  "  English  Bards 
and  Scotch  Reviewers."  His  fame  began  with  the  first  two  cantos  of 
"  Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage,"  February,  1812,  written  after  his  first 
visit  to  the  Mediterranean.  In  the  next  four  years  he  wrote  his  oriental 
tales,  such  as  "  The  Giaour"  and  "  The  Bride  of  Abydos."  In  1816  he 
left  England  and  lived  on  the  Continent,  chiefly  in  Italy.  During  these 
years  he  completed  "  Childe  Harold,"  wrote  his  dramas,  and  began  his 
unfinished  masterpiece,  "  Don  Juan."  He  engaged  in  the  war  of  Greek 
independence,  and  died  of  fever  at  Missolonghi,  April  19,  1824.  No 
other  modern  English  poet  has  achieved  so  world-wide  a  fame. 

THOMAS  CAMPBELL,  who  excelled  as  the  writer  of  battle  poems,  was 
born  at  Glasgow,  July  27,  1777.  His  reputation  was  established  by  "The 
Pleasures  of  Hope,"  1799.  A  visit  to  the  Continent  the  next  year  in- 
spired such  martial  poems  as  "  Hohenlinden."  Other  publications  were 
"  Gertrude  of  Wyoming,"  1809  ;  "  Theodoric,"  1824;  and  "  The  Pilgrim 
of  Glencoe,"  1842.  He  died  at  Boulogne,  June  15,  1844. 

The  date  and  place  of  THOMAS  CAMPION'S  birth  are  unknown.  He 
studied  at  Cambridge,  and  at  one  time  was  a  member  of  Gray's  Inn, 
but  later  became  a  physician.  He  was  the  friend  of  Thomas  Nash  and 
John  Dowland,  the  lutanist.  All  the  words  and  most  of  the  music  of 
Dowland's  "  First  Book  of  Airs,"  1601,  were  written  by  Campion.  From 
that  time  the  latter  was  the  chief  writer  of  "  airs  "  or  short  songs  in 
Jacobean  England.  He  also  wrote  masques,  and  in  1602  published 
his  important  "Observations  in  the  Art  of  English  Poesy."  He  died, 
probably  of  the  plague,  March  i,  1619. 


380  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

THOMAS  CAREW  was  born  probably  at  Wickham,  Kent,  in  1598.  He 
was  educated  at  Westminster  School  and  at  Corpus  Christi,  Oxford. 
He  was  a  favorite  of  Charles  I,  a  friend  of  Ben  Jonson,  and  the  most 
artistic  of  the  courtly  poets  of  the  time.  Little  else  is  known  of  him, 
but  he  seems  to  have  died  not  later  than  April  17,  1638,  probably  at 
the  end  of  March. 

HENRY  CAREY  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  son  of  George  Savile, 
Marquis  of  Halifax.  Nothing  more  definite  is  known  of  his  birth.  He 
began  his  career  as  a  teacher  of  music,  but  soon  acquired  some  fame  as 
a  writer  of  songs  and  burlesques.  The  song  here  given,  No.  167,  first 
published  about  1715,  was  a  favorite  of  Addison's  and  is  the  only  work 
of  Carey's  now  generally  remembered.  He  died  October  4,  1743. 

COLLEY  GIBBER  was  born  in  London,  November  6,  1671.  After  some 
soldiering  he  became  an  actor  and  playwright  of  considerable  fame. 
He  was  poet  laureate,  wrote  a  famous  autobiography,  and  was  made  the 
later  hereof  Pope's"  Dunciad."  He  died  in  London,  December  12,  1757. 

HARTLEY  COLERIDGE,  son  of  the  more  famous  Samuel  Taylor  Cole- 
ridge, was  born  near  Bristol,  September  19,  1796.  He  was  educated  at 
Oxford,  but  early  showed  the  tendency  to  drink  which  ruined  his  career. 
He  spent  his  life  in  miscellaneous  literary  work.  A  small  volume  of  his 
poems  appeared  in  1833,  a  posthumous  complete  edition  in  1851.  He 
died  at  Grasmere,  January  6,  1849. 

SAMUEL  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  was  born  at  Ottery  St.  Mary,  Devon- 
shire, October  21,  1772.  He  was  educated  at  Christ's  Hospital  and  at 
Jesus  College,  Cambridge.  He  became  the  brother-in-law  of  Southey 
and  the  friend  of  Wordsworth.  To  the  "  Lyrical  Ballads,"  1798,  he  con- 
tributed "  The  Ancient  Mariner."  "  Christabel,"  written  at  this  time, 
was  not  published  till  1816.  In  1817  a  collection  of  his  poems  called 
"  Sibylline  Leaves  "  appeared.  Complete  editions  of  his  poems  appeared 
in  1828  and  1834.  His  slavery  to  opium  ruined  his  splendid  genius. 
He  died  at  Highgate,  July  25,  1834.  As  poet,  critic,  student  of  philoso- 
phy and  theology,  lecturer,  and  conversationalist  Coleridge  is  one  of 
the  most  variously  gifted  and  seminal  of  modern  men  of  letters. 

JOHN  COLLINS  was  born  at  Bath  in  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  He  was  probably  a  tailor's  son.  He  became  an  actor  and 
appeared  in  Dublin  and  London  with  moderate  success.  Later  he  in- 
vented a  composite  form  of  entertainment,  —  lecture,  song,  and  story,  — 
which  brought  him  some  wealth.  He  invested  his  earnings  in  The  Bir- 
mingham Chronicle,  where  his  poems  appeared.  He  died  May  2,  1808. 

WILLIAM  COLLINS  was  born  at  Chichester,  Christmas  Day,  1721. 
He  was  educated  at  Winchester  and  at  Oxford.  He  published  his  first 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES  381 

poems  before  he  left  school.  Later  he  lived  in  London,  in  Richmond, 
and  in  Chichester,  where  he  died  June  12,  1759.  His  mind  had  long 
been  clouded,  and  during  his  early  life  he  had  suffered  the  effects  of 
poverty.  Dr.  Johnson  was  his  friend,  and  wrote  a  sympathetic  notice  of 
him  in  the  "  Lives  of  the  Poets."  His  name  is  now  associated  with  that 
of  Gray  to  represent  the  best  poetry  of  the  mid-eighteenth  century. 

ABRAHAM  COWLEY  was  born  in  London  toward  the  end  of  1618. 
He  was  educated  at  Westminster  and  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  He 
was  secretary  to  Queen  Henrietta  Maria  after  her  flight  to  the  Continent, 
but  returned  to  England  during  Cromwell's  lifetime.  After  the  Restora- 
tion he  lived  in  retirement,  generally  regarded  as  the  greatest  poet  of 
his  day.  His  poetry  is  now  seldom  read,  but  his  charming  "  Essays  " 
help  to  preserve  his  fame.  He  died  at  Chertsey,  July  28,  1667. 

WILLIAM  COWPER  was  born  November  15,  1731,  at  Great  Berkhamp- 
stead,  where  his  father  was  rector  of  the  parish.  During  a  somewhat 
unhappy  boyhood,  spent  chiefly  at  Westminster  School,  he  developed 
his  love  of  literature.  In  1748  he  was  entered  at  the  Middle  Temple, 
where  he  remained  until  1759,  when  he  removed  to  the  Inner  Temple 
and  became  a  commissioner  of  bankrupts.  A  few  years  later  he  grew 
so  nervous  over  an  examination  which  was  to  qualify  him  for  a  govern- 
ment appointment,  that  he  temporarily  lost  his  reason  and  made  several 
attempts  at  suicide.  After  a  brief  confinement  in  an  asylum  Cowper 
recovered  and  removed  to  Huntingdon,  where  he  formed  his  famous 
friendship  for  the  Unwins.  After  Mr.  Unwin's  death  in  1767  his  wife 
and  Cowper  lived  at  Olney,  where  the  poet  wrote  with  Newton  the 
"  Olney  Hymns."  Cowper's  friends  devoted  themselves  to  keeping  him 
in  a  sane  state  of  mind,  and  the  remainder  of  his  life  is  important  only 
for  his  writings,  which  include  many  forms  of  poetry  and  some  of  the 
most  charming  letters  in  the  language.  The  "  Poems "  appeared  in 
1782,  "John  Gilpin"  in  1783,  "The  Task"  in  1785.  After  establishing 
his  fame  as  the  greatest  living  English  poet  and  undergoing  much 
mental  wretchedness,  Cowper  died  at  East  Dereham,  April  25,  1800. 

RICHARD  CRASHAW  was  born  in  London,  probably  in  1613.  His 
father  was  a  Puritan  minister.  He  was  educated  at  the  Charterhouse 
School,  and  at  Cambridge,  where  he  held  a  Fellowship  until  he  was 
ejected  by  Parliament  in  1643.  He  went  to  Paris,  where  he  received 
some  assistance  from  Cowley  and  from  Queen  Henrietta  Maria.  His 
poems  appeared  in  1646,  under  the  title  "Steps  to  the  Temple,"  and 
gave  him  a  high  rank  among  the  religious  poets  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. He  entered  the  Roman  Church  and  died  a  canon  of  Loretto,  1649. 

ALLAN  CUNNINGHAM  was  born  at  Keir,  Dumfriesshire,  December  7, 
1784.  His  father  was  later  the  friend  and  neighbor  of  Burns,  and  the 


382  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

son  walked  in  Burns's  funeral  procession.  Allan  was  brought  up  as  a 
stonemason,  but  his  fondness  for  old  Scotch  songs  led  him  to  perpe- 
trate a  sort  of  hoax  on  a  London  publisher  by  bringing  out  his  original 
compositions  under  the  title  of  "  Remains  of  Nithsdale  and  Galloway 
Song,"  1810.  At  this  time  he  came  to  London  and  became  the  secre- 
tary of  Francis  Chantrey,  the  sculptor.  His  chief  later  publications 
were  "  Traditional  Tales  of  the  English  and  Scottish  Peasantry,"  1822  ; 
a  four-volume  collection,  «  Songs  of  Scotland,  Ancient  and  Modern," 
1825,  in  which  this  fine  song,  "  A  Wet  Sheet  and  a  Flowing  Sea,"  No. 
249,  was  included;  and  from  1829  to  1833,  tne  "Lives  of  the  Most 
Eminent  British  Painters,  Sculptors,  and  Architects."  He  died  in 
London,  October  30,  1842. 

SAMUEL  DANIEL  was  born  near  Taunton,  1562,  of  a  musical  family. 
He  was  educated  at  Magdalen,  Oxford,  and  became  famous  for  the 
beauty  of  his  diction  and  his  versification.  He  was  much  honored 
during  his  lifetime,  succeeded  Spenser  as  unofficial  poet  laureate,  and 
died  at  Beckington  in  October,  1619. 

THOMAS  DEKKER  was  born  about  1 570,  in  London.  He  may  have 
attended  the  Merchant  Tailors'  School.  He  was  one  of  the  hack  writers 
employed  by  the  theatrical  manager  Henslowe,  who,  when  he  was  im- 
prisoned for  debt  in  1 598,  procured  his  freedom.  He  was  a  most  prolific 
writer  of  plays  and  pamphlets,  but  died  poor  about  1641 .  The  poem  here 
given,  No.  75,  is  from  "The  Pleasant  Comedy  of  Patient  Grissell,"  1599. 

ROBERT  DEVEREUX,  second  Earl  of  Essex,  was  born  at  Netherwood, 
Herefordshire,  November  19, 1 566.  He  was  the  brother  of  that  Penelope 
Devereux  whom  Sidney  loved.  He  attended  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
and  embarked  on  the  career  of  courtier,  soldier,  and  queen's  favorite, 
for  which  he  is  remembered  in  history.  In  1 590  he  married  the  widow 
of  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  In  1596  he  captured  Cadiz.  Then  in  1599  he  was 
appointed  Governor-General  of  Ireland,  and  after  a  disastrous  campaign 
there  he  fell  into  disfavor  with  Elizabeth,  whereupon  he  tried  to  start 
a  rebellion,  and  was  executed  for  treason,  February  25,  1601. 

JOHN  DONNE,  grandson  of  John  Heywood  and  kin  to  Sir  Thomas 
More,  was  born  in  London  about  1573.  Probably  because  his  family 
were  Roman  Catholics,  he  took  no  degree  at  the  universities,  though 
he  attended  both.  After  some  foreign  travel  he  became  secretary  to 
Chancellor  Sir  Thomas  Egerton,  and  eloped  with  Anne  More,  Lady 
Egerton's  niece.  He  took  orders  in  1615,  became  a  famous  preacher, 
and  was  made  Dean  of  St.  Paul's  in  November,  1621.  He  died  March 
31,  1631.  For  the  most  part  his  poems  —  noted  for  their  subtle  imagina- 
tion —  were  written  in  his  youth,  and  became  famous  through  circulation 
in  manuscript. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES  383 

MICHAEL  DRAYTON  was  born  at  Hartshill,  Warwickshire,  1563.  He 
was  the  friend  of  Spenser  and  of  most  of  the  great  Elizabethans. 
He  wrote  voluminous  historical  poems,  and  busied  himself  with  some 
dramatic  writing,  but  he  is  chiefly  remembered  for  this  sonnet,  No.  49, 
for  "  Nimphidia,"  and  for  "  The  Ballad  of  Agincourt,"  one  of  the  most 
martial  ballads  in  English.  He  died  in  London,  1631. 

WILLIAM  DRUMMOND  was  born  at  Hawthornden,  December  13, 
1585.  He  attended  the  famous  high  school  at  Edinburgh  and  gradu- 
ated from  the  university  there.  After  some  foreign  travel  he  lived 
chiefly  at  his  home,  writing  love  poems  in  the  fashions  prevailing  in 
London.  He  entertained  Ben  Jonson  in  1618,  and  recorded  their  oft- 
quoted  conversations  about  contemporary  English  poets.  He  died 
December  4,  1649. 

JOHN  DRYDEN,  the  chief  man  of  letters  of  the  Restoration,  was  born 
at  Aldwinkle  All  Saints,  Northamptonshire,  August  9, 1631.  He  attended 
Westminster  School  and  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  He  is  popularly 
remembered  for  his  great  odes,  —  the  "  Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day," 
1687,  and  "  Alexander's  Feast,"  1697, —  and  for  his  remarkable  satires, 
"Absalom  and  Achitophel,"  1681,  and  "  MacFlecknoe,"  1682;  but  he 
also  wrote  a  large  number  of  comedies  and  heroic  plays  and  an  impor- 
tant body  of  narrative  verse,  and  he  was  the  best  critic  of  his  age.  He 
died  in  London,  May  I,  1700. 

JA*NE  or  JEAN  ELLIOT  was  born  in  1727  at  Minto  House,  Teviotdale. 
Her  father,  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot,  and  her  brother  Gilbert  were  literary  in 
their  tastes.  One  evening  in  17  56  the  brother  bet  Jean  "  a  pair  of  gloves 
or  a  set  of  ribbons  "  that  she  could  not  write  a  ballad  on  the  subject  of 
Flodden  Field.  Jean  won  the  wager  with  the  verses  here  given,  No.  162. 
The  poem  was  published  anonymously  in  1756,  and  for  some  time  it  was 
thought  to  be  a  "  genuine  relic  of  the  past."  Among  the  first  to  discover 
the  modern  note  in  it  was  Burns.  Scott  included  it  as  a  modern  poem 
in  the  "  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,"  1803.  Jean  Elliot  lived  in 
Edinburgh  from  1782  to  1804.  She  was  the  last  lady  in  the  town  to 
make  regular  use  of  her  sedan  chair,  and  in  other  ways  she  cultivated  old 
fashions.  She  died  at  Teviot  House  or  at  Minto  House,  March  29,  1805. 

JOHN  FLETCHER  was  born  at  Rye,  Sussex,  in  December,  1579.  He 
seems  to  have  been  educated  at  Cambridge,  and  he  later  collaborated 
in  writing  plays  with  his  friend  Francis  Beaumont.  He  excelled  in  the 
writing  of  comedy,  and  in  his  lyrics.  The  song  here  given,  No.  132, 
from  "  The  Nice  Valour,"  may  have  influenced  Milton's  "  II  Penseroso." 
Fletcher  died  in  London  and  was  buried  August  29,  1625. 

JOHN  GAY  was  born  at  Barnstaple,  probably  in  September,  1685. 
After  a  brief  experience  as  a  London  apprentice  he  began  his  literary 
career  under  circumstances  not  known.  His  first  poem  is  said  to  have 


384  .      THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

been  published  in  1708.  His  collected  poems  appeared  in  1720.  He 
became  one  of  the  important  men  of  letters  in  his  age,  with  varied 
kinds  of  success  to  his  credit,  and  he  was  the  close  friend  of  Pope  and 
Swift.  Besides  several  admirable  songs,  he  wrote  "Trivia,"  1716;  the 
"  Fables,"  1727  ;  and  u  The  Beggar's  Opera,"  1728.  He  died  in  London, 
December  4,  1732. 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH  was  born  in  Ireland,  November  10,  1728.  He 
was  educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  After  much  miscellaneous 
experience  he  became  a  sort  of  hack  writer  to  the  editor  of  the  Monthly 
Review.  "  The  Traveller,"  1764  ;  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  1766 ;  "  The 
Deserted  Village,"  1770;  and  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  1773,  are  his 
best-known  works  and  have  made  him  a  favorite  writer.  He  died  in 
London,  April  4,  1774. 

ROBERT  GRAHAM,  afterwards  Cunninghame-Graham,  was  educated 
at  Glasgow  University,  for  a  time  was  a  planter  in  Jamaica,  and  in  1785 
was  elected  rector  of  Glasgow  University.  From  1794  to  1796  he  was 
in  Parliament.  He  was  well  known  for  his  songs,  which  made  their  way 
without  the  help  of  any  systematic  publishing.  He  died  about  1797. 

THOMAS  GRAY  was  born  at  Cornhill,  December  26,  1716.  He  was 
educated  at  Eton  and  at  Peterhouse,  Cambridge.  In  1739  and  1740  he 
traveled  abroad  with  Horace  Walpole.  After  a  short  residence  at 
Stoke  Poges  he  went  to  Cambridge,  where  he  remained,  first  at  I^ter- 
house  and  afterwards  at  Pembroke.  He  wrote,  besides  his  famous 
"  Elegy,"  comparatively  few  poems,  but,  in  compensation,  made  himself 
one  of  the  most  learned  men  in  England,  and  wrote  letters  to  his  friends 
which  are  delightful  in  their  kind.  He  was  one  of  the  first  Englishmen 
to  take  journeys  for  the  sake  of  romantic  scenery.  He  died  at  Cam- 
bridge, July  30,  1771. 

ROBERT  GREENE  was  born  in  Norwich,  1558.  The  date  of  his  bap- 
tism is  July  ii.  He  was  educated  at  Cambridge,  and  after  the  customary 
Elizabethan  travel  abroad,  settled  into  a  life  in  London  that  he  himself 
has  described  as  vicious  in  the  extreme.  He  is  famous  for  his  romances, 
dramas,  and  charming  poems,  for  his  pamphlets  on  roguery  of  all  sorts, 
and  for  his  highly  emotional  repentance.  He  died  in  extreme  want,  in 
the  house  of  a  London  shoemaker,  September  3,  1592.  The  poem  here 
given,  No.  60,  is  from  "  Menaphon,"  1 589,  one  of  his  romances. 

WILLIAM  HABINGTON  was  born  at  Hindlip  on  November  4,  1605. 
After  being  educated  in  St.  Omers  and  at  Paris,  he  became  a  courtier, 
and  wrote  Platonic  verse  after  the  French  fashion.  He  died  Novem- 
ber 30,  1654. 

GEORGE  HERBERT,  one  of  the  best  known  of  English  religious  poets, 
was  born  of  a  noble  Welsh  family  in  the  Castle  of  Montgomery,  Wales, 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES  385 

April  3,  1593.  His  elder  brother,  Edward,  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury, 
was  also  a  poet,  but  better  known  as  a  diplomatist,  philosopher,  and 
historian,  and  as  the  writer  of  an  interesting  autobiography.  George 
Herbert  was  educated  at  Westminster  and  at  Cambridge.  After  gradu- 
ating he  became  Public  Orator  of  the  University,  and  was  ambitious  of 
a  political  career.  A  change  in  his  character,  possibly  brought  about 
by  increasing  ill  health,  or  by  the  death  of  several  friends,  turned  him 
to  the  religious  life.  In  1630  he  became  Vicar  of  Bemerton,  near  Salis- 
bury, where  he  led  a  life  famous  for  its  quiet  piety.  He  died  of  con- 
sumption, and  was  buried  March  3,  1633.  Shortly  afterwards  "The 
Temple,"  his  one  volume  of  poems,  was  published  by  his  friends. 

ROBERT  HERRICK,  the  model  of  English  lyrical  poets  of  the  less 
elaborate  type,  was  born  in  London,  August  24,  1591.  He  was  educated 
at  Cambridge,  at  St.  John's  College  and  Trinity  Hall,  and  after  some 
miscellaneous  adventures  took  orders  before  1627.  On  September  30, 
1629,  he  became  vicar  of  Dean  Prior,  in  Devonshire.  In  1647  Parlia- 
ment ejected  him  from  his  living,  whereupon  he  went  to  London  and 
shortly  afterward  published  his  one  collection,  "  Hesperides."  After  the 
Restoration  Herrick  returned  to  his  vicarage  in  Dean  Prior,  August  24, 
1662.  He  died  in  October,  1674,  and  was  buried  on  the  fifteenth  of 
the  month. 

THOMAS  HEYWOOD,  a  hack  writer  employed  by  the  manager  Hens- 
lowe,  was  born  in  Lincolnshire,  some  time  before  1 575.  His  best  known 
play  is  "A  Woman  Killed  with  Kindness,"  1603.  Heywood  died  after 
1648.  The  present  song,  No.  73,  comes  from  "  The  Rape  of  Lucrece." 

THOMAS  HOOD,  humorist  and  humanitarian,  was  born  in  London, 
May  23,  1799.  His  life  was  spent  chiefly  in  editing  magazines,  to  which 
he  contributed  his  poems,  and  in  a  vain  search  for  health.  He  edited 
successively  the  London  Magazine,  the  Comic  Annual,  1830-1840,  the 
New  Monthly  Magazine,  1841-1843,  and  Hood's  Magazine  during  the 
last  year  of  his  life.  His  humorous  poems  are  remarkable  for  their 
brilliant  punning;  the  three  serious  poems  in  the  present  collection 
and  "  The  Song  of  the  Shirt "  seem  now  the  basis  of  his  permanent 
reputation.  He  died  in  London,  May  3,  1845. 

BEN  JONSON,  Shakespeare's  great  contemporary  in  the  drama,  was 
born  in  London,  1573.  He  was  educated  at  Westminster  School,  but  it 
is  not  known  that  he  attended  either  Oxford  or  Cambridge.  After  some 
experience  as  a  bricklayer,  and  later  as  a  soldier  in  the  Netherlands,  he 
turned  to  the  stage,  and  wrote  "  Every  Man  in  His  Humour,"  some  time 
before  1598.  For  the  rest  of  his  life  he  shared  with  Shakespeare  the 
leadership  of  the  drama,  and  also  wrote  short  poems  in  a  manner  so 
perfect  that  they  became  the  models  for  Herrick  and  for  minor  poets 


386  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

ever  since.    After  being  for  many  years  a  sort  of  literary  dictator,  much 
looked  up  to  by  young  writers,  he  died  in  London,  August  6,  1637. 

JOHN  KEATS  was  born  in  London,  October  31,  1795,  o*  humble  par- 
entage. His  father  died  in  1804  and  his  mother  in  1810.  In  the  latter 
year  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  surgeon,  and  for  some  time  he  pursued 
his  medical  studies  conscientiously.  But  about  1812  the  reading  of 
Spenser's  "  Faerie  Queene  "  inspired  him  to  write  poetry.  His  great 
sonnet  "  On  First  Looking  into  Chapman's  Homer  "  was  written  in  1815. 
In  1817  appeared  his  first  volume  of  "Poems,"  in  1818  "  Endymion," 
and  in  1820  his  last  volume,  containing  "Lamia,"  "Isabella,"  "The  Eve 
of  St.  Agnes,"  the  famous  odes,  and  the  fragment  of  "  Hyperion."  In 
September,  1820,  Keats  left  England  for  Italy,  in  an  attempt  to  recover 
from  consumption.  He  died  in  Rome,  February  23,  1821,  and  in  a  few 
years  his  fame  began  to  spread  rapidly.  He  is  now  generally  regarded 
as  one  of  the  truest  and  greatest  of  the  English  poets. 

CHARLES  LAMB  was  born  in  London,  February  10,  1775.  He  was 
educated  at  Christ's  Hospital,  where  he  met  Coleridge,  as  he  has  beauti- 
fully told  us  in  a  famous  essay.  He  became  a  clerk  in  the  South  Sea 
House,  and  then,  in  1792,  in  the  East  India  Company,  where  he  remained 
until  he  retired  on  a  pension  in  1825.  His  life  was  devoted  to  his  sister 
Mary,  and  literature  was  his  chief  recreation.  He  is  best  known  for  the 
"  Essays  of  Elia,"  which  appeared  first  in  the  London  Magazine  and  then 
in  two  collections  in  1823  and  1833.  Almost  as  famous  are  the  "Tales 
from  Shakespeare,"  which  he  wrote  in  collaboration  with  Mary  Lamb. 
Few  of  his  poems  are  important,  but  the  three  in  the  present  collection 
are  famous.  "  The  Old  Familiar  Faces  "  appeared  in  "  Blank  Verse,  by 
Charles  Lamb  and  Charles  Lloyd,"  1798.  He  died  at  Edmonton,  Decem- 
ber 27,  1834. 

MARY  LAMB  was  born  in  London,  1764.  She  had  a  tendency  toward 
insanity,  which  suddenly  developed  in  1796  in  a  most  tragic  manner. 
Her  brother  Charles  made  himself  responsible  for  her  conduct,  and  their 
pathetic  devotion  to  each  other  is  one  of  the  romantic  passages  in  the 
literary  history  of  England.  Besides  collaborating  in  the  "Tales  from 
Shakespeare,"  1807,  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb  published  "  Poetry  for  Chil- 
dren," 1809,  from  which  this  poem,  No.  283,  is  taken.  Mary  Lamb  died 
at  Edmonton,  May  20,  1847. 

THOMAS  LODGE  was  born  about  1558,  at  West  Ham,  or  at  London. 
His  father  was  Lord  Mayor.  He  entered  Trinity  College,  Oxford,  in 
1573.  On  his  numerous  voyages,  perhaps  buccaneering  expeditions,  he 
wrote  several  romances,  notably  that  one  from  which  this  song,  No.  19, 
is  taken,  "  Rosalynde,  Euphues'  Golden  Legacie,"  1590.  This  romance 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES  387 

is  the  source  of  Shakespeare's  "  As  You  Like  It."  Lodge  later  became 
a  convert  to  Roman  Catholicism,  practiced  medicine,  and  published 
prose  translations.  He  died  in  London  of  the  plague,  1625. 

JOHN  LOGAN  was  born  at  Soutra,  Fala,  Midlothian,  in  1748.  He  was 
educated  at  Musselburgh  and  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh.  In  1770 
he  was  licensed  to  preach  in  the  Scottish  Church,  and  in  1773  he  was 
ordained.  His  "  Poems"  were  published  in  1781.  His  connection  with 
the  stage,  through  the  composition  of  a  tragedy,  "  Runnymede,"  pro- 
duced in  Edinburgh  in  1783,  made  him  unpopular  with  his  church.  He 
died  in  London,  December  25,  1788.  He  is  probably  the  author  of  the 
charming  and  famous  "  Ode  to  the  Cuckoo,"  more  often  attributed  to 
his  friend  Michael  Bruce. 

RICHARD  LOVELACE  was  born  at  Woolwich,  Kent,  in  1618.  He  was 
educated  at  the  Charterhouse  School,  and  at  Gloucester  Hall,  Oxford. 
By  his  personal  charms  he  early  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Court. 
He  became  a  soldier,  and  was  chosen  to  present  the  Kentish  Petition 
to  the  House  of  Commons.  For  this  act  he  was  thrown  into  prison.  He 
spent  his  fortune  in  the  cause  of  Charles,  and,  later,  served  the  French 
king.  He  died  in  obscurity  in  London,  in  April,  1658. 

JOHN  LYLY  was  born  between  October  9,  1553,  and  October  8,  1554, 
in  Kent.  He  was  educated  at  Oxford.  The  first  part  of  "  Euphues,"  the 
most  famous  and  influential  Elizabethan  novel,  appeared  in  1 579 ;  the 
second  part  in  1 580.  Lyly  also  wrote  plays  for  the  children  of  St.  Paul's 
and  the  children  of  the  Chapel  Royal,  and  it  is  from  these  plays  that 
his  lyrics  are  taken,  the  present  song,  No.  72,  coming  from  "Alexander 
and  Campaspe,"  1584.  He  died  in  November,  1606. 

HENRY  FRANCIS  LYTE  was  born  at  Ednam,  June  i,  1793.  He  was 
educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  became  a  minister  in  the 
Established  Church.  His  poor  health  compelled  him  to  travel  much 
on  the  Continent.  In  1826  he  published  his  "Tales  in  Verse";  his 
"  Poems,  Chiefly  Religious  "  appeared  in  1833,  an(^  ms  literary  "  Re- 
mains "  in  1850.  He  is  best  known  by  his  famous  hymn,  "Abide  With 
Me,"  but  others  of  his  hymns  are  only  less  popular.  He  died  at  Nice, 
November  20,  1847. 

CHRISTOPHER  MARLOWE  is  ranked  as  Shakespeare's  chief  prede- 
cessor in  the  drama.  The  son  of  a  Canterbury  shoemaker,  he  was 
christened  February  26,  1564.  He  was  educated  at  the  King's  School 
and  at  Cambridge.  From  that  time  till  his  death  in  a  tavern  brawl, 
June  i,  1593,  his  only  record  is  the  brief  series  of  important  plays, 
" Tamburlaine,"  in  1587,  and,  in  close  sequence,  "Doctor  Faustus," 
"The  Jew  of  Malta,"  and  "Edward  II."  The  first  two  dramas  and  his 


388  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

translation  of  "  Hero  and  Leander  "  proved  him  one  of  the  most  musical 
and  exquisite  of  poets.  The  famous  song  here  given,  No.  7,  appeared 
in  "The  Passionate  Pilgrim,"  1599.  See  note  on  Shakespeare,  p.  390. 

ANDREW  MARVELL,  Milton's  assistant  in  the  Latin  secretaryship,  was 
born  at  Winestead,  March  31,  1621.  He  was  educated  at  Hull  and  at 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  After  some  travel  on  the  Continent  and 
private  tutoring  at  the  home  of  Lord  Fairfax  he  was  recommended  by 
Milton  to  a  post  under  the  Commonwealth,  and  in  1657  he  became  Mil- 
ton's assistant.  In  January,  1659,  he  was  elected  a  member  of  Parliament 
for  Hull,  and  at  the  Restoration  he  used  his  influence  to  protect  Milton. 
He  continued  to  take  a  highly  honorable  part  in  politics  until  his  death 
in  London,  August  18, 1678.  He  is  remembered  as  a  political  satirist  and 
controversialist,  and  as  a  lyric  poet  of  great  charm. 

WILLIAM  JULIUS  MICKLE,  usually  thought  though  not  certainly  proved 
to  be  the  author  of  No.  194,  was  born  September  28, 1735,  at  Langholm, 
Dumfriesshire.  Educated  at  Langholm  and  in  the  schools  of  Edinburgh, 
he  became  clerk  in  a  brewery,  which  by  1757  he  owned.  But  his  literary 
interests  led  to  neglect  of  business  and  to  failure.  In  1765  he  became 
corrector  to  the  Clarendon  Press,  and  six  years  later  began  his  trans- 
lation of  the  "Lusiads"  of  Camoens,  finished  in  1775.  After  some  at- 
tempts at  dramatic  writing  and  a  visit  to  Portugal,  where  he  was  elected 
a  member  of  the  Royal  Academy,  he  settled  into  a  government  sinecure. 
To  Evans's  "  Old  Ballads,  Historical  and  Narrative,  With  Some  of  Mod- 
ern Date,"  1777-1784,  he  contributed  his  beautiful  "  Cumnor  Hall," 
mentioned  by  Scott  in  the  Introduction  to  "  Kenilworth."  He  died  at 
Forest  Hill,  near  Oxford,  October  28,  1788.  "The  Sailor's  Wife"  has 
sometimes  been  given,  on  very  insufficient  evidence,  to  a  certain  Jean 
Adam  or  Jane  Adams,  a  Scotch  schoolmistress. 

JOHN  MILTON,  usually  regarded  as  the  greatest  English  nondramatic 
poet,  was  born  in  London,  December  9,  1608.  He  was  fortunate  in  his 
home.  His  father  enabled  him  to  spend  several  years  in  leisure  and 
travel  after  he  had  completed  his  studies  at  Cambridge,  and  to  these 
happy  years  belong  his  lovely  early  poems.  Then  he  taught  a  few 
pupils,  continued  his  own  deep  studies,  and  began  the  series  of  his 
great  prose  pamphlets.  At  the  beginning  of  the  Commonwealth  he  was 
appointed  Latin  Secretary  to  the  Committee  on  Foreign  Affairs,  and  lost 
his  sight  through  overwork.  At  the  Restoration  he  was  in  danger  of  his 
life  and  went  into  hiding.  "  Paradise  Lost "  was  begun  in  1658  and  pub- 
lished in  1667.  "Paradise  Regained"  and  "Samson  Agonistes"  ap- 
peared together  in  1671.  Milton  died  November  8,  1674.  The  present 
poem,  No.  85,  was  composed  at  the  end  of  1629,  when  Milton  had  just 
passed  his  twenty-first  birthday,  —  an  extraordinary  achievement  for  so 
young  a  man. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES  389 

THOMAS  MOORE,  the  friend  of  Byron,  was  born  in  Dublin,  May  28, 
1779.  He  came  to  London  with  some  fame  as  a  rising  poet,  and  be- 
came celebrated  for  his  "  Irish  Melodies,"  published  from  1807  to  1834. 
"  Lalla  Rookh,"  a  pseudo-oriental  tale  in  verse,  1817,  expressed  the 
same  interest  in  the  East  that  made  Byron's  oriental  poems  popular. 
Moore  died  at  Sloperton  Cottage,  Wiltshire,  February  25,  1852.  He 
won  some  distinction  as  a  satirist  and  as  a  prose  writer  by  his  biog- 
raphies, particularly  his  "  Life,  Letters,  and  Journals  of  Lord  Byron." 

THOMAS  NASH,  the  youngest  of  the  Elizabethan  university  wits,  was 
born  at  Lowestoft  in  November,  1567.  He  studied  at  Cambridge  from 
1582  to  1586,  and  became  the  friend  and  defender  of  Greene  and 
Marlowe.  His  important  works  are  "Jack  Wilton,"  a  novel,  1594,  and 
the  play  "  Summer's  Last  Will  and  Testament,"  1600,  from  which  this 
song,  No.  i,  is  taken.  He  was  dead  by  1601. 

JOHN  NORRIS  was  born  at  Collingbourne-Kingston,  Wiltshire,  1657. 
He  was  educated  at  Winchester  and  at  Exeter  College,  Oxford,  and 
became  fellow  of  All  Souls.  He  entered  the  ministry  and  wrote  much 
in  a  religious  or  mystical  vein.  In  1692  he  became  rector  of  Bemerton, 
near  Salisbury,  the  parish  that  George  Herbert  had  made  famous.  Norris 
died  there  in  1711. 

CAROLINA  OLIPHANT,  Baroness  Nairne,  was  born  at  Gask,  Perth- 
shire, August  1 6,  1766.  She  was  inspired  by  Burns's  poems  to  imitate 
and  revise  old  Scotch  songs,  and  under  an  assumed  name  contributed 
to  the  collections  of  the  time.  "  The  Land  o'  the  Leal,"  1798,  No.  198, 
was  sent  for  comfoit  to  Mrs.  Campbell  Colquhoun,  who  had  lost  a  child. 
The  latter  part  of  Lady  Nairne's  life  was  spent  in  travel  for  the  health  of 
her  own  son.  She  died  at  Gask,  October  26,  1845. 

AMBROSE  PHILIPS  was  born  in  Shropshire  about  1675.  He  was  edu- 
cated at  Shrewsbury  and  at  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.  His  famous 
"  Pastorals,"  1709,  which  excited  Pope's  jealousy,  were  perhaps  written 
while  he  was  in  college.  He  was  befriended  by  Swift,  Addison,  and  Steele. 
In  1724  he  became  secretary  to  the  Bishop  of  Armagh,  and  later  rose 
to  be  judge  of  the  prerogative  court.  He  died  in  London,  June  18,  1749. 
He  was  ridiculed  by  Henry  Carey  (see  p.  379)  as  "  Namby  Pamby." 

ALEXANDER  POPE  was  born  in  London,  May  21, 1688.  He  was  brought 
up  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  spent  a  sickly  childhood  and  youth  in  retire- 
ment. His  literary  career  began  with  his  "  Pastorals,"  1709,  and  his 
fame  was  assured  by  "The  Rape  of  the  Lock,"  1714.  He  died  at  Twick- 
enham, May  30,  1744.  He  had  long  since  become  the  chief  poet  of  the 
age,  but  as  his  work  lay  chiefly  in  the  fields  of  satiric  and  didactic  verse, 
he  is  represented  in  this  volume  by  only  the  present  poem,  No.  1 54, 
which  he  claimed  to  have  written  when  he  was  twelve  years  old.  The 
piece  is  remarkably  Horatian  in  tone. 


390  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

MATTHEW  PRIOR  was  born  in  Dorsetshire,  July  21, 1664.  He  was  edu- 
cated at  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  and  afterwards  had  a  distin- 
guished diplomatic  career,  especially  at  the  time  of  the  Peace  of  Utrecht. 
He  is  considered  by  many  to  be  the  best  English  writer  of  society  verse. 
He  died  September  18,  1721. 

FRANCIS  QUARLES  was  born  at  Romford,  Essex,  where  he  was  bap- 
tized May  8,  1592.  He  was  educated  at  Christ's  College,  Cambridge, 
and  studied  law  at  Lincoln's  Inn.  After  a  short  residence  abroad  he 
settled  in  London  and  published  poems  of  an  eccentric  and  religious 
character.  Before  1629  he  became  secretary  to  the  Bishop  of  Armagh, 
Ireland.  Before  1633  he  was  in  England  again,  at  Roxwell,  Essex.  In 
1635  he  published  his  famous  book,  the  "Emblems."  He  died  Septem- 
ber 8,  1644. 

SAMUEL  ROGERS  was  born  at  Stoke  Newington,  July  30,  1763.  He 
entered  the  banking  business  at  his  father's  wish,  but  his  real  interest 
was  in  literature.  In  1781  he  made  his  first  appearance  in  print  with  a 
paper  reminiscent  of  Johnson's  "  Rambler."  His  first  volume  of  poems 
was  published  in  1786.  In  1792  appeared  "The  Pleasures  of  Memory." 
From  that  year  his  reputation  constantly  increased.  He  was  the  friend 
of  most  of  the  prominent  statesmen,  artists,  and  poets  who  flourished 
during  his  long  life.  He  died  in  London,  December  18,  1855. 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT,  whom  Tennyson  called  the  greatest  man  of 
letters  of  the  nineteenth  century,  was  born  at  Edinburgh,  August  15, 
1771.  After  graduating  from  Edinburgh  University  he  became  a  lawyer, 
but  managed  to  do  much  writing  in  addition  to  his  public  duties.  His 
"  Border  Minstrelsy "  was  published  in  1802,  "  The  Lay  of  the  Last 
Minstrel"  in  1805,  "Marmion"  in  1808,  "  The  Lady  of  the  Lake"  in 
1810,  "Rokeby"  in  1813.  After  1814  Scott  devoted  himself  to  his 
novels,  but  the  incidental  poems  in  his  stories  are  among  the  best  short 
lyrics  in  the  language.  He  died  at  Abbotsford,  September  21,  1832. 

SIR  CHARLES  SEDLEY  was  born  about  1639  at  Aylesford,  Kent.  He 
was  for  a  while  at  Wadham  College,  Oxford,  and  after  the  Restora- 
tion was  a  member  of  Parliament.  Although  once  noted  as  a  dramatist, 
a  wit,  and  a  man  of  taste,  he  is  chiefly  remembered  for  his  dissolute  life. 
His  best  trait  seems  to  have  been  his  gift  of  song  writing.  He  died 
August  20,  1701. 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE,  greatest  of  English  dramatists,  was  born  at 
Stratford-on-Avon,  April  23,  1564.  His  early  life  is  the  subject  of  much 
conjecture ;  recent  discoveries  have  made  his  later  years  a  little  less 
legendary  than  they  were.  He  married  Anne  Hathaway  when  he  was 
little  more  than  a  boy,  and  shortly  afterwards  he  went  to  London 
and  became  connected  with  the  stage  as  actor  and  playwright,  and 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES  391 

shareholder  in  two  theaters.  He  died  at  Stratford,  April  23,  1616.  The 
songs  in  this  anthology  are  taken  from  his  various  dramas  and  from 
"The  Passionate  Pilgrim,"  1599,  a  collection  of  poems,  of  which  five 
are  known  to  be  Shakespeare'Sc  The  sonnets  are  from  the  collection 
printed  in  1609. 

PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY  was  born  at  Field  Place,  Sussex,  August  4. 
1792.  He  was  educated  at  Eton  and  at  University  College,  Oxford,  but 
was  expelled  by  the  college  authorities  in  1811  for  the  publication  of 
his  tract,  "  The  Necessity  of  Atheism."  His  father  practically  disowned 
him,  and  the  radical  nature  of  his  poems  and  his  conduct  caused  his 
virtual  exile  from  England.  His  last  years  were  spent  in  Italy.  He 
published  "Queen  Mab  "  in  1813,  "Alastor"  in  1816,  "The  Revolt  of 
Islam  "  in  1817,  "  Prometheus  Unbound  "  in  1820,  and  "  The  Cenci "  in 
the  same  year.  He  was  drowned  in  the  Mediterranean,  July  8,  1822.  Like 
Wordsworth,  he  is  now  praised  by  his  admirers  almost  as  much  for  his 
personality  as  for  his  poems. 

JAMES  SHIRLEY  was  born  in  London,  September  18,  1596.  He  was 
educated  at  the  Merchant  Tailors  School,  at  St.  John's  College,  Oxford, 
and  at  Catherine  Hall,  Cambridge.  He  took  orders  in  the  English 
Church,  but  later  became  a  Roman  Catholic  and  devoted  his  life  to 
writing  plays.  He  was  a  prolific  dramatist  and  ranks  as  the  last  of  the 
great  Elizabethan  playwrights.  No.  91  is  from  his  masque  "  Cupid  and 
Death";  No.  92  is  from  his  "Contention  of  Ajax  and  Ulysses."  He 
died  of  exposure  during  the  fire  of  London,  October,  1666. 

SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY  was  born  of  noble  parentage  at  Penshurst,  Kent, 
November  29,  1554.  At  Shrewsbury  School  he  formed  his  famous 
friendship  with  Fulke  Greville,  his  biographer.  For  a  time  he  studied 
at  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  and  later  traveled  on  the  Continent.  Return- 
ing to  Elizabeth's  court,  he  was  the  friend  of  Spenser  and  other  poets. 
By  the  nobility  of  his  character  and  by  his  romantic  death  he  became 
the  ideal  English  courtier.  At  the  battle  of  Zutphen,  September  22, 
1586,  he  was  fatally  wounded,  and  died  on  October  17.  He  was  only 
incidentally  a  writer,  but  in  each  of  his  works,  "Astrophel  and  Stella," 
v  The  Countess  of  Pembroke's  Arcadia,"  "  The  Apologie  for  Poetrie," 
he  had  the  fortune  to  set  the  standard  for  Elizabethan  sonnet  sequences, 
romances,  and  criticism.  For  his  contemporaries  he  was  the  model  of 
the  perfect  gentleman,  and  such  he  remains  to  us. 

CHRISTOPHER  SMART  was  born  at  Shipbourne,  Kent,  April  u,  1722. 
He  was  educated  at  Pembroke  Hall,  Cambridge,  and  became  a  fellow 
of  that  college  in  1745.  Later  he  removed  to  London  and  published 
an  unimportant  volume  of  poems.  He  lost  his  reason,  but  in  a  sane 
interval  wrote  the  "Song  to  David,"  1763,  from  which  these  lines, 


392  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

No.  179,  are  taken.  But  for  this  extraordinary  poem,  one  of  the  most 
imaginative  of  the  century,  Smart  would  be  known,  if  at  all,  mainly  as  a 
hack  writer.  He  died  in  London,  May  21,  1771. 

ROBERT  SOUTHEY  was  born  at  Bristol,  August  12,  1774.  He  was 
educated  at  Westminster  School  and  at  Balliol,  Oxford.  With  Cole- 
ridge he  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  French  Revolution,  and  was  for  a 
while  a  decided  Radical.  After  his  marriage  to  the  sister  of  Coleridge's 
wife,  the  necessity  of  supporting  the  Coleridges  as  well  as  his  own  large 
family  developed  the  steadier  qualities  in  his  fine  character.  His  home 
for  the  chief  part  of  his  life  was  at  Keswick.  Besides  much  reviewing 
and  historical  writing  and  general  literary  work,  he  wrote  some  ambi- 
tious epics  like  "  Thalaba,"  1801,  and  "The  Curse  of  Kehama,"  1810, 
and  a  few  memorable  short  poems.  In  1813  he  became  poet  laureate. 
He  died  at  Keswick,  March  21,  1843. 

EDMUND  SPENSER,  one  of  the  greatest  of  English  poets,  was  born  in 
London,  in  1552.  He  was  educated  at  Pembroke  Hall,  Cambridge,  and 
joined  the  group  of  young  poets  at  Elizabeth's  court.  In  1579  appeared 
"  The  Shepheardes  Calendar,"  the  most  important  poem  since  Chaucer's 
day.  In  1 580  Spenser  was  appointed  secretary  to  the  Lord  Deputy  of 
Ireland.  In  1 590  he  issued  the  first  three  books  of  "  The  Faerie  Queene  " ; 
in  1595  "Colin  Clouts  Come  Home  Againe,"  the  "Amoretti,"  and  the 
"  Epithalamion  " ;  and  in  1 596,  the  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  books  of  "  The 
Faerie  Queene."  He  died  in  London,  January  16,  1599. 

SIR  JOHN  SUCKLING  was  born  at  Whitton,  Middlesex,  February,  1609. 
He  was  a  precocious  child,  and  early  became  distinguished  for  his  wit. 
After  attending  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  he  traveled  much  on  the 
Continent.  He  was  popular  at  the  English  Court  for  his  verses  and 
plays,  and  was  also  noted  as  a  gamester  and  a  gallant.  The  song  here 
given,  No.  129,  his  most  famous  piece,  occurs  in  his  play  "  Aglaura," 
1638.  For  political  reasons  he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  country.  The 
manner  of  his  death  is  uncertain.  One  story  is  that  he  committed  sui- 
cide in  Paris,  probably  before  the  end  of  1642. 

JOSHUA  SYLVESTER,  born  in  Kent,  1563,  was  a  business  man  who 
made  literature  his  avocation.  In  1606  he  was  attached  to  the  Court  as 
a  poet.  His  translations  from  the  French  poet  Du  Bartas  had  great 
fame  and  much  influence,  but  are  now  forgotten.  He  died  at  Middelburg, 
September  28,  1618. 

JAMES  THOMSON  was  born  at  Ednam,  Roxburghshire,  probably  on 
September  7,  1700.  He  was  educated  at  Jedburgh  and  at  the  University 
of  Edinburgh.  In  1725  he  came  to  London  in  search  of  a  literary  career. 
His  fame  was  secured  by  "  The  Seasons,"  published  in  four  parts  be- 
tween 1726  and  1730.  Aside  from  some  dramatic  writing,  his  only  other 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES  393 

considerable  work  was  the  "  Castle  of  Indolence,"  of  1748.  His  most 
famous  poem,  No.  1 58,  appeared  in  "  The  Masque  of  Alfred,"  produced 
in  collaboration  with  David  Mallet  on  August  i  and  2,  1740,  for  which 
Dr.  Arne  wrote  the  music.  There  has  been  some  question  as  to  Thom- 
son's authorship  of  the  song,  but  it  is  almost  certainly  his.  Some  have 
also  questioned  its  inclusion  in  the  "  Golden  Treasury  "  on  the  assump- 
tion that  it  lacks  the  higher  qualities  of  lyric  poetry.  To  this  it  may  be 
replied  that  it  rings  true  to  the  patriotic  heart  and  is  full  of  dignity,  facts 
which  Lord  Tennyson  and  Mr.  Palgrave  doubtless  perceived.  Thomson 
died  August  27,  1748. 

THE  SHEPHERD  TONIE.  This  pen  name  has  not  been  definitely  as- 
signed, but  it  is  supposed  to  represent  Anthony  Munday,  a  hack  writer 
of  whose  life  little  is  known.  He  was  born  in  1553,  was  apprenticed  to 
a  stationer,  wrote  plays  for  Henslowe,  and  died  in  1633.  If  this  poem, 
No.  20,  is  his,  he  wrote  no  other  lyric  like  it,  so  far  as  we  know. 

HENRY  VAUGHAN,  "  Silurist,"  was  born  at  Newton  S.  Bridget,  Wales, 
April  17,  1622.  From  other  Vaughans  he  distinguished  himself  by  this 
title  derived  from  the  ancient  tribe  of  Silures.  He  was  educated  at  Jesus 
College,  Oxford,  and  spent  his  life  in  literary  leisure,  although  to  some 
extent  practicing  as  a  physician.  He  came  to  be  the  chief  disciple  of 
George  Herbert,  but  occasionally  showed  far  more  imaginative  power 
than  his  master.  He  died  April  23,  1695. 

EDMUND  WALLER,  one  of  the  chief  literary  figures  of  seventeenth- 
century  England,  was  born  at  Coleshill,  Buckinghamshire,  March  3, 
1606.  He  was  educated  at  Eton  and  at  King's  College,  Cambridge. 
While  still  very  young  he  was  returned  to  Parliament  for  Amersham. 
His  long  political  career  is  not  altogether  to  his  credit,  but  as  an  orator 
and  wit  he  deserved  his  immense  reputation.  He  is  important  as  a  fore- 
runner of  the  formal  restrained  poets  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  a 
few  of  his  poems  still  possess  great  charm.  He  died  at  Hall  Barn, 
Beaconsfield,  October  21,  1687. 

JOHN  WEBSTER,  one  of  the  hack  writers  employed  by  Henslowe,  was 
born  in  London,  perhaps  in  1580.  He  wrote  several  plays  in  partner- 
ship with  other  writers.  No.  66  occurs  in  "  The  White  Devil,"  one  of  his 
two  great  tragedies,  1612.  The  other,  "  The  Duchess  of  Malfi,"  was  pro- 
duced in  1616.  Webster  died  toward  the  end  of  1625. 

JOHN  WILMOT,  second  Earl  of  Rochester,  was  the  chief  of  those  disso- 
lute, gifted  youths  who  adorned  and  disgraced  the  court  of  Charles  II. 
He  was  born  at  Ditchley,  Oxfordshire,  April  10,  1647.  For  a  short  time 
he  attended  Wadham  College,  Oxford,  and  he  then  traveled  in  France 
and  Italy.  After  a  brief  military  experience  he  settled  down  to  a  career 
of  brilliant  depravity.  He  died  at  Woodstock  Park,  July  26,  1680. 


394  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

GEORGE  WITHER  or  WITHERS  was  born  at  Bentworth,  Hampshire, 
June  n,  1588.  After  two  years  at  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  he  studied 
law  in  London  and  entered  Lincoln's  Inn.  His  fame  rests  on  his  lyrics 
and  his  satires.  For  one  of  his  satires  he  was  imprisoned.  Under  the 
Commonwealth  he  was  a  not  very  successful  soldier,  and  the  end  of  his 
long  life  was  unhappy.  He  died  in  London,  May  2,  1667. 

CHARLES  WOLFE  was  born  at  Blackball,  Kildare,  December  14,  1791. 
Educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  he  took  orders  in  the  Established 
Church  and  became  curate  of  Donoughmore,  Ireland.  His  famous 
poem,  No.  262,  was  published  in  the  Newry  Telegraph,  April  19,  1817. 
Various  claimants  to  its  authorship  have  arisen,  but  Wolfe's  right  to  the 
honor  seems  established.  He  died  at  Queenstown,  February  21,  1823. 

WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH  was  born  at  Cockermouth,  Cumberland, 
April  7,  1770.  He  was  educated  at  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge. 
Filled  with  revolutionary  fervor,  he  visited  France  during  the  Terror 
and  incurred  some  personal  danger.  His  "  Lyrical  Ballads,"  1798,  with 
the  famous  preface  added  later  (Second  Series,  1800),  marked  the  be- 
ginning of  a  new  kind  of  poetry,  which  aimed  at  extreme  naturalness 
in  diction  and  thought.  Almost  as  much  as  for  his  poetry,  Wordsworth 
is  affectionately  remembered  for  the  life  of  noble  poverty  which  he  led 
with  his  sister  Dorothy,  chiefly  at  Grasmere.  On  October  4,  1802,  he 
married  his  cousin,  Mary  Hutchinson.  In  March,  1843,  upon  the  death 
of  Southey,  Wordsworth  succeeded  to  the  office  of  poet  laureate.  He 
died  at  Rydal  Mount,  April  23,  1850.  His  poetry  attained  comparative 
popularity  only  toward  the  end  of  his  life,  but  he  has  been  regarded  by 
two  generations  as  one  of  the  very  greatest  of  the  English  poets. 

SIR  HENRY  WOTTON,  in  his  later  years  the  friend  of  Milton,  was 
born  in  Boughton,  Kent,  April  9,  1568.  He  was  educated  at  Winchester 
and  at  Oxford,  and  traveled  on  the  Continent  from  1590  to  1599.  He 
was  an  ambassador  to  Venice  and  to  Germany  under  James  I,  and  on 
his  retirement  from  public  life  became  Provost  of  Eton  College.  He 
died  at  Eton,  December,  1639. 

SIR  THOMAS  WYAT,  the  earliest  of  the  famous  "  courtly  makers  "  of 
Tudor  times,  was  born  at  Allington  Castle,  Kent,  in  1503.  He  was  grad- 
uated from  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  at  a  very  early  age,  and  after 
some  travel  took  up  the  life  of  a  courtier.  Toward  the  end  of  1 540  he 
was  accused  of  treason  and  imprisoned,  but  he  cleared  himself  at  his 
trial.  He  died  at  Sherborne,  in  Dorsetshire,  on  October  10  or  n,  1542. 
His  poems,  which  followed  Italian  models,  circulated  in  manuscript,  and 
were  first  printed  in  "  Tottel's  Miscellany,"  1557. 


NOTES 

(The  notes  in  brackets  are  Palgrave's.) 

2  1  The  palm  and  may :  the  great  sallow,  or  goat  willow,  and  the  haw- 
thorn.  See  the  Century  Dictionary.  — 10  This  and  the  following  song  are 
sung  by  Ariel  in  "  The  Tempest."    Compare  Act  V,  scene  i,  and  Act  I, 
scene  ii.  —  20  [whist:  hushed,  quieted.] — 21  f  eatly  :  daintily. — 22  bur- 
then :  undersong. 

3  7  [Rouse  Memnon's  mother :  Awaken  the  Dawn  from  the  dark  Earth 
and  the  clouds  where  she  is  resting.    This  is  one  of  that  limited  class  of 
early  myths  which  may  be  reasonably  interpreted  as  representations 
of  natural  phenomena.    Aurora  in  the  old  mythology  is  mother  of  Mem- 
non  (the  East),  and  wife  of  Tithonus  (the  appearances  of  Earth  and  Sky 
during  the  last  hours  of  night).    She  leaves  him  every  morning  in  re- 
newed youth,  to  prepare  the  way  for  Phoebus  (the  Sun),  whilst  Tithonus 
remains  in  perpetual  old  age  and  grayness.]  — 14  decore :  decorate.  — 
30  [by  PenSus'  streams  :  Phoebus  loved  the  Nymph  Daphne  whom  he 
met  by  the  river  Peneus  in  the  vale  of  Tempe.] 

4  3  [Amphion's  lyre :  He  was  said  to  have  built  the  walls  of  Thebes 
to  the  sound  of  his  music.]  —  8  chair:  chariot. — 11  [Night  like  a  drunkard 
reels:   Compare  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  Act  II,  scene  iii :  "  The  grey-eyed 
morn  smiles,"  etc.    It  should  be  added  that  three  lines,  which  appeared 
hopelessly  misprinted,  have  been  omitted  in  this  poem.]  — 14  orient : 
bright.  — 17  This  and  the  following  poem  are  the  sixty-fourth  and  sixty- 
fifth  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets.  —  20  eternal :  should  be  construed  with 
brass.  —  25  state :  condition.    In  the  next  line  it  seems  to  mean  magnifi- 
cence, greatness. 

51  which:  since  it  (that  is,  the  thought}.  — 12  [Time's  chest :  in  which  he 
is  figuratively  supposed  to  lay  up  past  treasures.  So  in  w  Troilus,"  Act  III, 
scene  iii,  "  Time  hath  a  wallet  at  his  back,"  etc.  In  the  "  Arcadia,"  chest 
is  used  to  signify  tomb.}  17  [A  fine  example  of  the  high-wrought  and 
conventional  Elizabethan  pastoralism,  which  it  would  be  unreasonable 
to  criticize  on  the  ground  of  the  unshepherdlike  or  unreal  character  of 
some  images  suggested.  Stanza  6  was  perhaps  inserted  by  Izaak  Walton.] 

6  1  kirtle  :  gown  with  a  skirt,  petticoat.  — 19  [This  beautiful  lyric  is 
one  of  several  recovered  from  the  very  rare  Elizabethan  songbooks, 
for  the  publication  of  which  our  thanks  are  due  to  Mr.  A.  H.  Bullen 
(1887,  1888).]  The  title  means  (Love]  conquers  All  Things. 

395 


396  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

7  11  This  is  one  of  those  pieces  in  the  "Passionate  Pilgrim"  (1599), 
which  are  generally  assigned  to  Shakespeare.  — 17  brave :  finely  dressed. 

8  1  This  song  is  sung  by  Amiens  in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  Act  II,  scene  v. 

—  3  turn :  return,  give  back.  — 17  This  song  is  sung  by  the  two  pages 
in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  Act  V,  scene  iii.  — 18  The  refrain  is  meaningless,  at 
least  to-day.  —  20  ring  time  :  season  for  dancing  in  a  ring.  —  29  prime  : 
usually  means  spring  (compare  11  3),  but  here  it  may  mean  supreme 
happiness.   If  it  means  spring,  there  should  be  at  least  a  comma  after  it. 

9  3  [One  stanza  has  been  here  omitted,  in  accordance  with  the  prin- 
ciple noticed  in  the  Preface.    Similar  omissions  occur  in  a  few  other 
poems.    The  more  serious  abbreviation  by  which  it  has  been  attempted 
to  bring  Crashaw's  w  Wishes  "  and  Shelley's  "  Euganean  Hills,"  with 
one  or  two  more,  within  the  scheme  of  this  selection,  is  commended 
with  much  diffidence  to  the  judgment  of  readers  acquainted  with  the 
original  pieces.] — 6  This  line  seems  to  convey  a  challenge.  —  21  [Sidney's 
poetry  is  singularly  unequal ;  his  short  life,  his  frequent  absorption  in 
public  employment,  hindered  doubtless  the  development  of  his  genius. 
His  great  contemporary  fame,  second  only,  it  appears,  to  Spenser's, 
has  been  hence  obscured.    At  times  he  is  heavy  and  even  prosaic ;  his 
simplicity  is  rude  and  bare  ;  his  verse  unmelodious.    These,  however,  are 
the  "  defects  of  his  merits."    In  a  certain  depth  and  chivalry  of  feeling, 

—  in  the  rare  and  noble  quality  of  disinterestedness  (to  put  it  in  one 
word),  —  he  has  no   superior,  hardly  perhaps  an  equal,  amongst  our 
poets ;  and  after  or  beside  Shakespeare's  sonnets,  his  "  Astrophel  and 
Stella,"  in  the  editor's  judgment,  offers  the  most  intense  and  powerful 
picture  of  the  passion  of  love  in  the  whole  range  of  our  poetry.] 

10  8  [Hundreds  of  years :  "  The  very  rapture  of  love,"  says  Mr.  Ruskin  ; 
w  A  lover  like  this  does  not  believe  his  mistress  can  grow  old  or  die."] 
The  title  means  The  Way  of  Love.  —  9  This  is  the  fifty-seventh  of  Shake- 
speare's sonnets.  —  21  in  your  will :   so  far  as  concerns  your  intent.  — 
23  This  is  the  ninety-seventh  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets. 

Ill  removed:  of  removal,  of  absence.  —  9  cheer:  countenance. — 
11  This  is  the  twenty-ninth  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets.  The  last  six  lines 
have  rarely  been  surpassed,  even  by  him.  — 16  with  :  of.  —  20  state  : 
Here  and  in  the  fourth  line  below,  both  meanings  of  the  word,  condition 
and  magnificence,  may  be  combined. 

12  1  This  is  the  one  hundred  and  ninth  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets. — 
2  qualify:  diminish.  —  7  exchanged:  changed.  — 10  blood:    disposition. 
— 12  To :  as  to.  — 15  This  is  the  one  hundred  and  fourth  of  Shakespeare's 
sonnets. — 22  which:  who  (refers  to  you}.  —  24  his:  its. 

13  1  [Readers  who  have  visited  Italy  will  be  reminded  of  more  than 
one  picture  by  this  gorgeous  Vision  of  Beauty,  equally  sublime  and 
pure  in  its  Paradisaical  naturalness.    Lodge  wrote  it  on  a  voyage  to 
"  the  Islands  of  Terceras  and  the  Canaries " :  and  he  seems  to  have 


NOTES  397 

caught,  in  those  southern  seas,  no  small  portion  of  the  qualities  which 
marked  the  almost  contemporary  art  of  Venice,  —  the  glory  and  the 
glow  of  Veronese,  Titian,  or  Tintoret.  From  the  same  romance  is 
No.  71, —  a  charming  picture  in  the  purest  style  of  the  later  Renaissance. 

—  1  the  clear :  is  the  crystalline  or  outermost  heaven  of  the  old  cosmog- 
raphy.] —  8  whenas  :  when.  — 13  shroud  :  covering  ;  that  is,  probably,  a 
cloud.  —  31  orient :  bright. 

14  9  muse  :  wonder.  — 11  [for  a  fair  there  's  fairer  none  :  If  you  desire 
a  Beauty,  there  is  none  more  beautiful  than  Rosaline.]  — 26  fond:  foolish. 
28  her  fashion :  the  way  she  was  fashioned,  her  form  or  shape. 

15  12  thou  art  woe-begone  thee :  Fowler  explains  this  as  a  confusion 
of  two  constructions,  thee  is  woe-begone  (M  to  thee  has  woe  closed  round  ") 
and  the  more  modern  thou  art  woe-begone.  — 13  [Another  gracious  lyric 
from  an  Elizabethan  songbook  .  .  .  reprinted  ...  in  Mr.  W.  J.  Linton's 
"  Rare  Poems,"  1883]  and  in  Arber's  M  English  Garner,"  1882  (Fowler). 

—  14  What :  why  (as  often  in  the  older  poets). 

16  6  This  is  the  eighteenth  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets.  — 13  untrimm'd  : 
stripped  of  its  trim  (its  beauty  or  adornment).  — 15  [that  fair  thou  owest : 
that  beauty  thou  ownest]  —  20  This  is  the  one  hundred  and  sixth  of 
Shakespeare's  sonnets.  —  22  making  beautiful  old  rhyme :  making  old 
rhymes  beautiful.  —  24  blazon  :  description. 

17  5  for :  since,  because.  —  9  [From  one  of  the  three  songbooks  of 
T.  Campion,  who  appears  to  have  been  author  of  the  words  which  he 
set  to  music.    His  merit  as  a  lyrical  poet  (recognized  in  his  own  time, 
but  since  then  forgotten)  has  been  again  brought  to  light  by  Mr.  Bullen's 
taste  and  research.]  — 13  still:   ever.    Compare  the  sixth  and  eighth 
lines  below.  —  24  which  :    of  which.  —  27    [swerving  :    is   Mr.  Bullen's 
conjecture  for  changing1  in  the  text  of  1601.]    The  title  means  Kisses  ; 
it  is  the  plural  of  the  Latin  basium. 

18  5  as  discontent :  as  the  result  of  being  discontented  (probably).   In 
the  older  writers  as  often  means  as  if.  — 19  This  poem  is  read  by  Dumain 
in  "  Love's  Labour 's  Lost,"  Act  IV,  scene  iii.  —  24  'gan:  began  (but  not  a 
contraction  of  that  word).  The  Globe  edition  reads  can.  —  25  That:  so  that. 

199  for  Jove:  as  Jove  (deny  his  existence  as  a  god).  — 16  whan: 
when.  — 19  assays  :  endeavors.  —  27  thine  own  approved  :  him  who  has 
been  proved  thine  own. 

207  in:  into.  — 15  The  title  means  Into  Tears.  Compare  ^Eneid,  IV, 
413  (Bates).  — 17  keep:  abide.  —  20  parts:  qualities. 

21  2  leave  off  in  time  to  grieve  :  cease  grieving  in  due  time.  —  7  This  is 
the  one  hundred  and  sixteenth  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets.  — 11  mark:  sea- 
mark. — 14  [Whose  worth  's  unknown,  although  his  height  be  taken :  appar- 
ently, Whose  stellar  influence  is  uncalculated,  although  his  angular 
altitude  from  the  plane  of  the  astrolabe  or  artificial  horizon  used  by 
astrologers  has  been  determined.]  — 15  Time's  fool :  the  sport  of  Time 


398  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

(Beeching).  —  21  [This  lovely  song  appears,  as  here  given,  in  Putten- 
ham's  "  Arte  of  English  Poesie,"  1589.  A  longer  and  inferior  form  was 
published  in  the  "  Arcadia  "  of  1 590  ;  but  Puttenham's  prefatory  words 
clearly  assign  his  version  to  Sidney's  own  authorship.] 

237  This  song  is  sung  by  the  clown  in  "Twelfth  Night,"  Act  II, 
scene  iii.  The  title,  from  Horace's  Odes,  Book  I,  ode  xi,  means  Seize  the 
Day.  — 19  The  title  alludes  to  Autolycus,  the  amusing,  rascally  peddler 
in  Shakespeare's  "  A  Winter's  Tale."  — 19  brave  :  fine  looking. 

244  orient ' st :  brightest.  —  7  This  song  is  found  at  the  very  close  of 
"  Love's  Labour 's  Lost."  — 15  [keel :  keep  cooler  by  stirring  round.]  — 
17  saw:  sermon  full  of  pious  maxims.  —  20  crabs:  crab  apples.  —  25  This 
is  the  seventy-third  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets. 

256  That:  as. — 6  his:  its.  — 11  This  is  the  thirtieth  of  Shakespeare's 
sonnets.  — 18  [expense:  loss.]  —  20  tell:  count. 

26  1  This  is  the  thirty-ninth  of  Sidney's  famous  "Astrophel  and  Stella" 
sonnets.    Compare  Sidney  Lee's  "  Elizabethan  Sonnets,"  Vol.  I,  in  the 
revised    "  English    Garner."    The    Elizabethan    poets   vied   with    one 
another  in  paying  tributes  to  sleep.    Compare  Daniel's  sonnet,  p.  30, 
and  for  a  modern  comparison,  Wordsworth's  sonnet,  p.  331.  —  2  baiting 
place :  feeding  place.  —  4  indifferent :  impartial.  —  5  proof :  tested  metal. 
—  5  [prease  :  press.]  — 10  deaf  of  :  Lee  reads  deaf  to,  which  seems  prefer- 
able. — 13  heavy  grace :  favor  slow  to  grant  itself.  — 15  This  is  the  sixtieth 
of  Shakespeare's  sonnets.  — 19  [Nativity,  once  in  the  main  of  light :  when 
a  star  has  risen  and  entered  on  the  full  stream  of  light ;  —  another  of  the 
astrological    phrases    no    longer    familiar.]  —  21  [Crooked   eclipses :    as 
coming  athwart  the  sun's  apparent  course]  and  producing  malignant 
effects.     [Wordsworth,   thinking   probably   of   the   "  Venus "   and   the 
"  Lucrece,"  said  finely  of  Shakespeare :  "  Shakespeare  could  not  have 
written  an  epic ;   he  would  have  died  of  plethora  of  thought."    This 
prodigality  of  nature  is  exemplified  equally  in  his  sonnets.    The  copious 
selection  here  given  (which,  from  the  wealth  of  the  material,  required 
greater  consideration  than  any  other  portion  of  the  editor's  task),  con- 
tains many  that  will   not  be  fully  felt  and  understood  without  some 
earnestness  of  thought  on  the  reader's  part.    But  he  is  not  likely  to 
regret  the  labor.]  —  23  flourish:  "outward  painting"  (Beeching). 

27  3  in  hope :  that  are  fo  be  expected  to  come.  —  5  This  is  the  eighty- 
seventh  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets.  —  7  charter :  in  addition  to  the  play 
upon  legal  terms,  there  is  here  the  meaning  of  privilege.  —  8  determinate  : 
canceled,  expired.  — 15  [upon  misprision  growing :  either,  granted  in  error, 
or,  upon  the  growth  of  contempt.]  — 19  This  is  the  ninety-fourth  of 
Shakespeare's  sonnets.    [With  the  tone  of  this  sonnet  compare  Ham- 
let's "Give  me  that  man  That  is  not  passion's  slave,"  etc.   Shakespeare's 
writings  show  the  deepest  sensitiveness  to  passion ;  hence  the  attraction 
he  felt  in  the  contrasting  effects  of  apathy.]  —  24  expense  :  waste. 


NOTES  399 

28  4  outbraves :  surpasses  in  a  showy  manner.  — 4  his :  its.  — 10  [grame : 
sorrow.    Renaissance  influences  long  impeded  the  return  of  English 
poets  to  the  charming  realism  of  this  and  a  few  other  poems  by  Wyat] 
— 15  wealth:  well-being  (Fowler).  — 15  among:  in  the  midst  of. 

29  10  up-till :  against.  — 10  thorn  :  hawthorn.    Compare  p.  30, 1.  18.  — 
23  [Pandion  in  the  ancient  fable  was  father  to  Philomela.] — 24  lapp'd 
in  lead  :  wrapped  in,  covered  by  leaden  coffins. 

30  6  ill-adventured  youth  :  youth  which  put  forth  upon  an  unfortunate 
voyage  of  life.  —  7  their:  of  them  (the  objective  use).  — 11  approve: 
prove.  — 13  embracing  clouds :  the  allusion  seems  to  be  to  the  legend  of 
Ixion,  but  it  would  be  a  pity  to  consider  the  sonnet  as  a  mere  complaint 
of  a  lover.    Compare  11.  5-6. — 15  [In  the  old  legend  it  is  now  Philo- 
mela, now  Procne  (the  swallow),  who  suffers  violence  from  Tereus. 
This  song  has  a  fascination  in  its  calm  intensity  of  passion,  —  that  "  sad 
earnestness  and  vivid  exactness  "  which  Cardinal  Newman  ascribes  to 
the  masterpieces  of  ancient  poetry.]    Tereus  was  the  mythical  king  of 
Thrace.  —  28  wroken  :  wreaked. 

31  6  woe  :  This  may  be  an  adjective,  equivalent  to  woeful,  but  it  may 
also  be  a  noun.  — 11  This  beautiful  song  is  sung  by  a  boy  at  the  opening 
of  the  fourth  act  of  "  Measure  for  Measure."  The  title  means  In  Vain. 

—  22  cleanly  :  completely. 

32  7  The  title  is  from   Psalms  xxxix,  6 :    "  man  walketh  in  a  vain 
shew"  (Bates).  — 18  turneth :  though  the  form  is  singular,  the  subject 
is  beams.  —  2f>  [proved  :  approved.] 

33  1  This   is   the  one  hundred  and   forty-eighth  of   Shakespeare's 
sonnets.  —  4  [censures:   judges.]  —  8  Is  there  a  pun  in  this  line?  — 
15  [Exquisite  in  its  equably  balanced  metrical  flow.]  —  21  secure:  this 
probably,  but  not  certainly,  means  free  from  care  rather  \h&n  frtl  from 
danger. 

34  1  [Judging  by  its  style,  this  beautiful  example  of  old  simplicity 
and  feeling  may,  perhaps,  be  referred  to  the  earlier  years  of  Elizabeth.] 

—  3  [late  forgot :  lately.] 

35  26  mere  :  pure. 

364  were:  even  were.  —  7  For  the  turn  at  the  end  of  this  poem, 
compare  Drayton's  famous  sonnet,  p.  31.  —  9  This  song  is  sung  by 
Amiens  in  "As  You  Like  It,"  Act  II,  scene  vii. 

371  [Printed  in  a  little  Anthology  by  Nicholas  Breton,  1597.  It  is, 
however,  a  stronger  and  finer  piece  of  work  than  any  known  to  be  his.] 

—  1  [silly:  simple.] — 3  doubt:  conjecture.  —  3  [dole:  grief.]  —  4  [chief: 
chiefly.] — 5  lap:  wrap. — 15  [If   there  be  any:   obscure;    perhaps,   if 
there  be  any  who  speak  harshly  of  thee,  thy  pain  may  plead  for  pity 
from  Fate] ;  or,  That  may  be  taken  as  a  demonstrative  pronoun  refer- 
ring to  the  preceding  clause.    [This  poem,  with  60  and  143,  are  each 
graceful  variations  of  a  long  popular  theme.]  — 18  the  time :   probably, 


400  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

the  while,  meanwhile.  —  21  purchase:    acquire.  —  26  The  construction 
is  mixed,  but  the  sense  is  clear.  —  30  purchased :  acquired. 

38  4  in  town  :  What  is  to  be  said  of  the  poetical  quality  of  this  phrase  ? 

—  6  hath  :  singular  form  with  plural  noun.  —  9  rascal :  of  low  origin.  — 
18  "In  consideration  of  thy  father's  nobility"  (Fowler).  — 19  This  is 
the  thirty-first  of  Sidney's  "  Astrophel  and  Stella"  sonnets.  —  22  [That 
busy   archer :    Cupid.]  —  26  [descries  :    used    actively  — points    out.}  — 
27  of:  on  account  of. 

39  2  ["  The  last  line  of  this  poem  is  a  little  obscured  by  transposition. 
He  means,  Do  they  call  ungratefulness  there  a  virtue?"  (C.  Lamb).]  — 
3  The  title  means  O  Cruel  Love.—  6  [White  Iop6 :  suggested,  Mr.  Bullen 
notes,  by  a  passage  in  Propertius  (iii,  20)   describing   Spirits  in  the 
lower  world :  Vobiscum  est  lope,  vobiscum  Candida  Tyro.]    The  line 
means  lope  is  with  you,  with  you  is  the  fair  white    Tyro.    Compare 
Muller's  edition,  III,  xxvi  (Teubner,  1885).  —  6  Helen:   Helen  of  Troy. 

—  7  finish'd  :  completed,  over  and  done  with.  — 15  wanton  :  playful  pet 

—  21  woe:  woeful. 

401  stint:  cease.  —  3  by  course:  continuously.  —  4  That:  so  that. — 
27  caitiffs  :  cowards,  yielders. 

41 1  This  song  is  sung  by  the  clown  in  "  Twelfth  Night,"  Act  II, 
scene  iv.  —  2  [cypres  or  Cyprus :  used  by  the  old  writers  for  crape:  whether 
from  the  French  crespe  or  from  the  island  whence  it  was  imported. 
Its  accidental  similarity  in  spelling  to  cypress  has,  here  and  in  Milton's 
"  Penseroso,"  probably  confused  readers.]  The  Cambridge  Shake- 
speare, however,  reads  cypress,  which  spelling  has  been  followed  in  the 
text.  — 19  immelodious :  unmelodious.  —  20  [ramage :  confused  noise.]  — 
22  wont :  was  accustomed,  or  were  accustomed,  as  it  is  parsed  with  voice 
or  sounds.  —  25  be  :  are.  Compare  the  modern  use  three  lines  below. 

422  turtle:  turtle  dove,  poetically  noted  for  its  constancy.  —  2  still: 
ever. — 3  This  dirge  is  sung  by  Guiderius  and  Arviragus  in  "  Cymbeline," 
Act  IV,  scene  ii.  The  title,  the  name  which  the  disguised  Imogen 
assumed,  means  Faithful.  — 16  thunderstone  :  thunderbolt.  —  20  Consign 
to  thee  :  be  bound  in  a  like  compact  with  thee.  —  21  This  dirge  is  sung 
by  Ariel,  in  "  The  Tempest,"  Act  I,  scene  ii. 

43  4  [w  I  never  saw  anything  like  this  funeral  dirge,"  says  Charles 
Lamb,  "  except  the  ditty  which  reminds  Ferdinand  of  his  drowned  father 
in  "  The  Tempest."  As  that  is  of  the  water,  watery ;  so  this  is  of  the  earth, 
earthy.  Both  have  that  intenseness  of  feeling,  which  seems  to  resolve 
itself  into  the  element  which  it  contemplates."]  —  8  dole:  lament. — 
14  This  is  the  thirty-second  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets. — 14  well-contented: 
the  day  of  his  death  will  bring  him  content,  or  will  find  him  contented 
to  die.  — 17  lover:  friend.  —  20  Reserve:  preserve.  —  21  height  of  happier 
men :  higher  achievements  of  men  more  fortunately  endowed. — 25  equi- 
page :  equipment. 


NOTES  401 

441  This  is  the  seventy-first  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets.  —  8  woe:  Is 
this  a  noun  or  an  adjective  ?  —  15  This  song  is  sung  in  "  The  Merchant 
of  Venice,"  Act  III,  scene  iii,  while  Bassanio  is  making  his  choice  of 
the  caskets.  — 15  Fancy :  love,  as  Palgrave's  title  shows. 

45  1  [Paraphrased  from  an  Italian  madrigal 

.     .     .    Non  so  conoscer  poi 
Se  voi  le  rose,  o  sian  le  rose  in  voi.] 

^-24  Whist:  be  still. 

46  14  like  of :  the  of  is  superfluous.  — 17  CampaspS  :  a  beautiful  cap- 
tive whom  Alexander  the  Great  gave  to  the  painter  Apelles,  who  sings 
the  song  in  Lyly's  play,  "  Alexander  and  Campaspe."  —  20  doves,  spar- 
rows :  birds  sacred  to  Venus.  —  24  [crystal:  fairness.] 

477  prune:  preen.  — 16  [Stare:  starling.] — 21  [This "Spousal Verse" 
was  written  in  honor  of  the  Ladies  Elizabeth  and  Katherine  Somerset. 
Nowhere  has  Spenser  more  emphatically  displayed  himself  as  the  very 
poet  of  beauty  ;  the  Renaissance  impulse  in  England  is  here  seen  at  its 
highest  and  purest.  The  genius  of  Spenser,  like  Chaucer's,  does  itself 
justice  only  in  poems  of  some  length.  Hence  it  is  impossible  to  repre- 
sent it  in  this  volume  by  other  pieces  of  equal  merit,  but  of  impracticable 
dimensions.  And  the  same  applies  to  such  poems  as  the  "  Lover's 
Lament"  or  the  "Ancient  Mariner."]  —  23  lightly  did  delay:  gently  or 
easily  mitigated. 

48  3  rutty :  Hales  takes  this  as  equivalent  to  rooty  ^  hence  flower-pro- 
ducing.   This  is  pretty,  but  Fowler  seems  right  in  suggesting  that  it 
means  "  seamed  with  tracks  of  streams,"  which  is  an  elegant  expression 
for  "full   of  ruts."  —  4  variable:    various.  —  6  bowers:    private    apart- 
ments.— 7  paramours:  lovers. — 8  Against:  in  anticipation  of . — 8  long: 
far  off.  — 12  thereby:  at  hand.  — 14  As:  as  if.  — 16  [entraileM:  twisted.] 
— - 17  flasket :  little   flask,   or  vase   to   hold   flowers.  — 18  [feateously  : 
elegantly.]  —  24  vermeil:    vermilion.  —  25  posies:    bouquets.  —  29  Lee: 
a  river  that  flows  into  the  Thames,  near  Greenwich.  —  31  Pindus :  a 
mountain  in  Thessaly.  —  34  Leda  :  see  a  classical  dictionary. 

49  12  Eftsoons:  soon  afterwards. — 13  all:  modifies  in  haste.  — 17  Them 
seem'd  :  it  seemed  to  them. 

5021  virtue:  power.  —  22  love's  dislike:  dislike  of  love.  —  23  assoil : 
remove.  —  24  accord :  bring  together  in  harmony.  —  33  They  sang  the 
burden  or  refrain  in  tune  with  her. 

51  10  [shend :  shame.]  — 19  Spenser  thought  that  he  was  related  to 
the  Spencers  of  Althorpe,  Northamptonshire  (Fowler).  —  21  whereas: 
where.  —  24  whilom:  formerly.  The  buildings  here  referred  to  were 
on  the  south  side  of  Fleet  Street.  At  the  suppression  of  the  Knights 
Templars  in  1313  the  property  passed  to  the  Crown,  thence  to  the  Earl 
of  Pembroke,  thence  to  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  and  thence,  in  1346; 


402  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

by  lease  to  the  students  of  the  common  law.  It  has  ever  since  been  the 
site  of  a  school  of  law,  at  least  that  portion  of  it  known  as  the  Inner 
and  the  Middle  Temple,  which  was  granted  to  the  benchers  by  James  I 
in  1609.  Compare  Baedeker's  "London,"  1905,  p.  183. — 28  great  lord:  the 
Earl  of  Leicester.  —  29  want:  the  object  of  feels.  —  34  [a  noble  peer: 
Robert  Devereux,  second  Lord  Essex,  then  at  the  height  of  his  brief 
triumph  after  taking  Cadiz :  hence  the  allusion  following  to  the  Pillars 
of  Hercules,  placed  near  Gades  by  ancient  legend]  and  marking  the 
western  limit  of  his  wanderings. 

52  6  thy  :  caused  by  thee.  — 11  [Elisa :  Elizabeth.]  — 13  Muse  :  poet 
Compare   p.  74,  1.  5.  — 18  Hesper :    the    evening   star.  —  27  [twins  of 
Jove:  the  stars  Castor  and  Pollux.] — 28  [baldric:  belt;  the  zodiac.]  — 
31  tide:  time. 

53  6  numbers  :  coins. 

54  1  dispossest :  deprived   of  activity,  M  put  out  of  commission."  — 
17  This  is  the  one  hundred  and  forty-sixth  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets.  — 
17  earth :  body.    The  text  here  is  corrupt.    The  quartos,  in  modernized 
spelling,  read  "  My  sinful  earth  those  rebel  powers  that  thee  array." 
Various  attempts  have  been  made  to  emend,  including  the  substitution 
of  phrases  like  "  Foil'd  by,"  "  Starv'd  by,"  etc.  for  the  repeated  words, 
and  the  omission  of  the  words  "  that  thee."   Compare  Beeching,  pp.  128- 
1 29.  Array  may  mean  beleaguer  or  afflict,  with  a  play  on  the  sense  of  adorn. 
The  whole  passage  is  obscure,  partly  on  account  of  an  apparent  change  in 
the  metaphor  —  the  house  is  first  an  assailed  castle  and  then  a  decaying 
mansion  —  and  partly  on  account  of  the  suddenness  with  which  the  meta- 
phor is  dropped  and  then  taken  up  again.  —  21  cost :  expensive  outlay. 
—  26  aggravate:  increase. 

55  1  terms :  periods.    The  word  is  probably  suggested  by  the  idea 
that  instead  of  having  an  earthly  estate  for  a  term  of  years,  the  soul  can 
secure  a  heavenly  estate  forever.  —  3  "By  withdrawing  food  from  what 
dies  and  so  diminishing  the   diet  of  death,  we  are  said  to  'feed  on 
death  '"  (Beeching). — 5  [This  lyric  may  with  very  high  probability  be 
assigned  to  Campion,  in  whose  first  Book  of  Airs  it  appeared  (1601). 
The  evidence  sometimes  quoted  ascribing  it  to  Lord  Bacon  appears  to 
be  valueless.]  Compare  Horace,  Odes,  Book  I,  ode  xxii,  "  Integer  vitae." 

56  8  period  of :  limit  to.  —  22  Ply  :  make  their  toilsome  way. 

57  1  This  is  the  sixty-sixth  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets.  —  3  trimm'd  •- 
adorned.  —  4  forsworn:   renounced.  —  8  disabled:    pronounce   as   four 
syllables.    Fowler  takes  the  word  as  equivalent  to  undervalued,  which 
may   be   right.  —  11  simplicity :    silliness.  — 15  he  :    he  who.  — 16  un- 
haunted  :  not  the  haunt  of  men.  —  20  hip  :  the  fruit  of  the  rosebush.  — 
20  haws:  sloes  (perhaps). — 21  still:  ever. 

59  6  That  he  should  remit  the  penalty  of  spiritual  death  imposed  on 
us  for  our  sins. 


NOTES  403 

60  3  wont :  was  accustomed.  —  4  the  midst  of :  in   the   midst   of.  — 
8  vein :  mood.  — 17  prevent :   anticipate.  — 18  lowly  :  in  lowly  wise.  — 
21  secret:  withdrawn  from  the  common  gaze.  —  23  While:  at  the  time 
when.    The  present  lies  goes  more  naturally  with  while,  and  also  serves 
to  lend  vividness  to  the  passage.  —  26  doff'd  her  gaudy  trim:  This  may 
mean,  as  Mr.  Bell  explains, /#/  off  her  holiday  attire  (gaudy-day,  a  festi- 
val); but  it  seems  more  likely  that  Milton  meant  that  nature  was  no 
longer  showily  attired  as  in  summer,  when  she  plays  with  her  lover 
(paramour,  1.  29)  the  sun. 

61  2  Pollute  :    polluted.  —  6  cease  :    cause  to  cease.  —  9  sphere  :    the 
poet  is  using  the  Ptolemaic  system  of  astronomy,  in  which  the  earth 
was  regarded  as  the  center  of  a  system  of  heavenly  spheres.  — 11  turtle  : 
like  that  of  a  dove,  the  bird  of  constancy  and  meekness. — 20  awful: 
full  of  awe  or  fear.  —  21  sovran  :  Milton's  usual  spelling  of  sovereign. — 
25  [whist:  hushed.]  —  29  birds  of  calm:  halcyons.    See  a  classical  dic- 
tionary under  Alcyone.  —  32  influence  :  used  in  its  astrological  sense. 

622  Lucifer:  the  morning  star.  —  3  orbs:  orbits  (probably).  —  4  be- 
spake  :  Compare  "  Lycidas,"  p.  76, 1.  28.  —  9  As :  as  if.  — 14  Or  ere  :  be- 
fore.— 15  simply:  innocently.  — 16  [than:  obsolete  for  then.]  —  17 
[Pan  :  used  here  for  the  Lord  of  all.]  Christ  is  regarded  as  the  true  Pan, 
the  god  of  all  things,  the  old  Pan  of  the  Greek  mythology  having  died  at 
the  time  of  the  Crucifixion,  according  to  a  well-known  legend.  —  20  silly  : 
innocent.  —  28  close:  final  cadence.  —  31  Cynthia's  :  the  moon's.  The 
passage  is  obscure,  but  if  we  conceive  the  poet  to  have  imagined  the 
moon  as  riding  upon  a  throne  through  the  heavens,  and  place  commas 
after  sound  and  seat,  we  may  suppose  that  the  sound  thrills  the  space 
between  the  moon  and  the  earth. 

631  alone:  by  itself,  without  her  assistance.  —  8  display 'd  :  outspread. 
— 10  unexpressive  :  inexpressible.  —  26  [consort:  Milton's  spelling  of 
this  word,  here  and  elsewhere,  has  been  followed,  as  it  is  uncertain 
whether  he  used  it  in  the  sense  of  accompanying,  or  simply  for  concert^ 

64  3  like  :  similar.  — 15  ychain'd  :  chained,  y  is  what  remains  of  the 
original  ge  prefixed  to  the  past  participle.  — 17-19  The  comparison  is 
made  with  the  phenomena  that  accompanied  the  giving  of  the  tables  of 
the  law  to  Moses.  Compare  Exodus  xix.  —  23  last  sessi6n:  Last  Judg- 
ment.—  25-32  After  the  judgment  there  will  be  no  more  earthly  life 
with  its  ills ;  the  bliss  of  the  Christian  will  be  perfect.  This  bliss  has 
now  begun  with  the  nativity  of  the  Saviour  and  the  greater  restraint  put 
upon  Satan.  —  32  Swinges  :  swings  to  and  fro. 

655  divine:  utter  prophecies.  —  6  Delphos :  Delphi,  the  seat  of  the 
chief  temple  of  Apollo.  —  9  o'er:  overhead  (probably).  — 14  parting: 
departing.  — 14  Genius :  spirit  presiding  over  spring  or  dale.  — 19  [Lars 
andLemures:  household  gods  and  spirits  of  dead  relations.] — 22  [Flamens: 
Roman  priests.] — 24  peculiar:  special. — 25  Peor  and  Baalim :  Phoenician 


404  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

deities.  —  27  [that  twice-batter'd  god  :  Dagon.]  Compare  I  Samuel  v,  3, 
where  allusion  is  made  to  Dagon's  twice  falling  before  the  ark  of 
God  (Bell). — 28  Ashtaroth :  Astarte,  goddess  of  the  moon,  a  Semitic 
divinity.  —  31  Lybic  Hammon :  the  Ethiopian  deity  Ammon,  identified 
by  the  Greeks  with  their  Zeus.  —  31  shrinks:  draws  in  through  fear. 
The  god  was  represented  as  having  horns  like  those  of  a  ram. — 
32  Thammuz  :  Adonis.  —  33  Moloch :  the  god  of  the  Ammonites,  to 
whom  frightful  human  sacrifices  were  made. 

66  6  Isis  :  mother  of  Horus  (Orus),  a  goddess  of  the  earth,  identified 
by  the  Greeks  with  Demeter.  —  6  Anubis  :  brother  of  Horus.  —  7  [Osiris  : 
the  Egyptian  god  of  agriculture  (here,  perhaps  by  confusion  with  Apis, 
figured  as  a  bull),  who  was  torn  to  pieces  by  Typho  and  embalmed  after 
death  in  a  sacred  chest.    This  myth,  reproduced  in  Syria  or  Greece  in 
the   legends  of  Thammuz,  Adonis,  and  perhaps  Absyrtus,  may  have 
originally  signified  the  annual  death  of  the  Sun  or  the  Year  under  the 
influences  of  the  winter  darkness.    Horus,  the  son  of  Osiris,  as  the  New 
Year,  in  his  turn  overcomes  Typho.]  —  8  Memphian :   from  Memphis, 
the  famous  Egyptian  city.  —  9  [unshower'd  grass :   as  watered  by  the 
Nile  only.]  — 13  timbrel'd :  The  timbrel  was  an  ancient  musical  instru- 
ment resembling  a  tambourine.  — 13  dark :  obscure,  unintelligible  (prob- 
ably).— 14  sable-stoled :    wearing  black  stoles.    Whether  Milton  used 
stole  here  in  the  sense  of  robe,  or  hood,  or  ecclesiastical  scarf,  is  hard 
to  determine.  — 17  eyn  :  an  old  plural  of  eye.  — 18  the  gods  beside:  the 
Oiher  gods.  —  20  Typhon :  brother  of  Osiris  (compare  note  667),  some- 
times represented  as  a  crocodile.  —  22-25  A  good  example  of  the  far- 
fetched or  inappropriate  figures  of  speech — "conceits"  —  that  often 
marred  the   poetry  of  this  period.  —  25  orient:  bright,   or  eastern. — 
28  several:  separate.  —  29  fays:  fairies.  —  30  maze:  intricate  dance. 

67  1  [youngest-teemed  :   last  born.]  —  4  courtly :   the  stable  with  its 
kingly  occupants  suggests  a  court.  —  5  [Bright-harness 'd :  armored.]  — 
6-20  This  is  a  poetical  statement  of  the  main  idea  of  the  Pythagorean 
philosophy.     See    some    encyclopedia.  —  20   diapason:    the    octave    in 
Greek  music. — 21  passion:  emotion.  —  22  Jubal :  see  Genesis  iv,  21. 
—  22  chorded  shell :  The  tradition  was  that  the  first  stringed  instrument 
was  made  by  stretching , cords  over  a  tortoise  shell.  —  26  Less  :  anything 
less.    It  is  the  subject  of  the  infinitive  dwell. 

68  2  mortal  alarms  :  alarums,  incitements  to  deadly  conflicts.  —  8  dis- 
covers :  makes  known.  — 12  Their  :  the  lovers'.  —  22  Orpheus  :  the  fabu- 
lous Greek  musician.    See  a  classical  dictionary.  —  24  Sequacious  of: 
following.  —  25  Cecilia:   St.  Cecilia,  the  patron  saint  of  music,  was  a 
noble  Roman  lady  who  lived  in  the  fourth  century,  and  suffered  martyr- 
dom for  her  Christian  faith.    Her  festival  occurs  on  November  22. 

69  5  [The  Late  Massacre  :  the  Vaudois  persecution,  carried  on  in  1655 
by  the  Duke  of  Savoy.    No  more  mighty  sonnet  than  this  "  collect  in 


NOTES  405 

verse,"  as  it  has  been  justly  named,  probably  can  be  found  in  any  lan- 
guage. Readers  should  observe  that  it  is  constructed  on  the  original 
Italian  or  Proven9al  model.  This  form,  in  a  language  such  as  ours, 
not  affluent  in  rime,  presents  great  difficulties ;  the  rimes  are  apt  to  be 
forced,  or  the  substance  commonplace.  But,  when  successfully  handled 
it  has  a  unity  and  a  beauty  of  effect  which  place  the  strict  sonnet  above 
the  less  compact  and  less  lyrical  systems  adopted  by  Shakespeare, 
Sidney,  Spenser,  and  other  Elizabethan  poets.]  It  should  be  added  that 
here  and  in  some  other  sonnets  Milton  omitted  the  full  stop  which 
comes  regularly  at  the  eighth  line  of  the  Petrarchan  sonnet,  and  which 
divides  that  form  into  two  parts  known  as  the  octave  and  the  sestet. 
The  result  of  this  omission  of  the  pause  is  the  imparting  to  the  sonnet 
of  a  sonorous  unity  which  harmonizes  with  the  poet's  mood,  and  justifies 
Wordsworth's  famous  lines  to  the  effect  that  in  Milton's  hands  the  sonnet 
became  a  trumpet.  — 13  redoubled  :  reechoed.  — 16  The  triple  Tyrant : 
the  Pope,  so  called  because  he  controlled  the  Church  and  wore  a  triple 
crown  or  tiara.  — 18  the  Babylonian  woe  :  the  Church  of  Rome,  regarded 
as  idolatrous  by  the  Puritans.  — 19  [Cromwell  returned  from  Ireland  in 
1650,  and  Marvell  probably  wrote  his  lines  soon  after,  whilst  living  at 
Nunappleton  in  the  Fairfax  household.  It  is  hence  not  surprising  that 
(stanzas  21-24)  ne  should  have  been«deceived  by  Cromwell's  professed 
submissiveness  to  the  Parliament  which,  when  it  declined  to  register 
his  decrees,  he  expelled  by  armed  violence :  one  despotism,  by  natural 
law,  replacing  another.  The  poet's  insight  has,  however,  truly  prophesied 
that  result  in  his  last  two  lines.  This  ode,  beyond  doubt  one  of  the 
finest  in  our  language,  and  more  in  Milton's  style  than  has  been  reached 
by  any  other  poet,  is  occasionally  obscure  from  imitation  of  the  con- 
densed Latin  syntax.  The  meaning  of  stanza  5  is  "  rivalry  or  hostility 
are  the  same  to  a  lofty  spirit,  and  limitation  more  hateful  than  opposi- 
tion." The  allusion  in  stanza  n  is  to  the  old  physical  doctrines  of 
the  nonexistence  of  a  vacuum  and  the  impenetrability  of  matter;  in 
stanza  17  to  the  omen  traditionally  connected  with  the  foundation  of 
the  Capitol  at  Rome, — forced,  fated.  The  ancient  belief  that  certain 
years  in  life  complete  natural  periods  and  are  hence  peculiarly  exposed 
to  death  is  introduced  in  stanza  26  by  the  word  climacteric] ;  that  is, 
dangerous.  This  ode,  which  approximates  the  felicity  and  dignity  of 
the  odes  of  Horace  at  their  highest  excellence,  is  in  all  probability  the 
work  of  Marvell,  but  the  external  evidence  of  his  authorship  is  weaker 
than  one  likes  to  have  it.  See  BirrelPs  "Andrew  Marvell,"  pp.  63-66. 
— 19  appear:  appear  distinguished.  The  word  forward  is  not  used,  of 
course,  in  its  unpleasant  sense.  It  means  aspiring. 

701  cease:  linger.  —  4  star:  of  destiny,  that  is,  his  genius.  —  7  thor- 
ough: through. — 23  his  highest  plot :  his  chief  concern  were. — 24  berga- 
mot:  a  sort  of  pea. 


4o6  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

71  7  Hampton :  Hampton  Court,  where  Charles  was   for   a  time  a 
prisoner,  where  he  cherished  vain  hopes  of  final  success,  and  whence 
he  escaped  only  to  be  soon  imprisoned  in  Carisbrook  Castle.   See  below, 
1.  12.  —  26  forced  power:  the  power  of  the  Commonwealth  acquired  by 
force.    In  his  note  above  on  this  poem  Palgrave  took  forced  as  equiva- 
lent to  fated.  —  28  The  Capitol:  "The  Capitol  or  Temple  of  Jupiter  at 
Rome  is  said  to  have  been  so  called  because  in  digging  its  foundations 
a  human  head  was  found  in  a  fresh  condition.  This  was  at  once  accepted 
as  an  omen  that  Rome  should  be  the  head  of  the  world  (Latin  caput, 
'head')"  (Bell). 

72  10  Loyal  in  his  service  to  the  Commonwealth.  — 14  A  Kingdom : 
Ireland.  — 15  what :  as  far  as.  —  32  climacteric  :  dangerous. 

73  1  The  Pict :  the  Scots.  —  2  Scotland  was  believed  by  the  supporters 
of  the  Commonwealth  to  have  acted  treacherously  in  rising  for  Charles  I 
in  1648,  and  in  supporting  his  son,  Charles  II.  —  3  valor  sad:  rendered 
sad  by  Cromwell's  valor.  —  6  mistake:  fail  to  find.  — 11  Perhaps  this 
line  is  equivalent  to  "  and  as  the  ultimate  arbiter."  — 14  A  poetical  way 
of  referring  to  the  treasonable  attempts  that  might  be  expected  against 
the  Commonwealth. — 17  [Lycidas :  The  person  here  lamented  is  Milton's 
college  contemporary,  Edward  King,  drowned  in  1637  whilst  crossing 
from  Chester  to  Ireland.]    The  poem  was  contributed  by  Milton  to  a 
volume  of  elegies  in  King's  memory  published  in  1638.    [Strict  pastoral 
poetry  was  first  written  or  perfected  by  the  Dorian  Greeks  settled  in 
Sicily,  but  the  conventional  use  of  it,  exhibited  more  magnificently  in 
"  Lycidas  "  than  in  any  other  pastoral,  is  apparently  of  Roman  origin. 
Milton,  employing  the  noble  freedom  of  a  great  artist,  has  here  united 
ancient  mythology,  with  what  may  be  called  the  modern  mythology  ot 
Camus  and  St.  Peter,  to  direct  Christian  images.    Yet  the  poem,  if  it 
gains  in  historical  interest,  suffers  in  poetry  by  the  harsh  intrusion  of 
the  writer's  narrow  and  violent  theological  politics.]    On  this  point 
opinions  differ.    See  note  to  77  11  below.    [The  metrical  structure  of 
this  glorious  elegy  is  partly  derived  from  Italian  models.]  — 17-24  The 
poet,  having  written  little  of  late  and  feeling  himself  not  yet  ripe  for 
great  poetry,  will  nevertheless  lament  his  lost  friend.  —  21  Shatter: 
scatter.  —  22  dear:  intimate. — 23  disturb  your  season  due:   pluck  you 
prematurely. — 29  welter:  roll  about.  —  30  Without  the  tribute  of  some 
melodious  poem  that  brings  tears  to  the  eyes. 

74 1  [Sisters  of  the  sacred  well :  the  Muses,  said  to  frequent  the 
Pierian  spring  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Olympus.]  —  5  Muse:  poet. — 
11-22  A  description  in  pastoral  terms  of  the  life  led  by  Milton  and 
King  at  Cambridge.  — 14  What  time  the  gray-fly  winds  :  the  trumpet  fly 
when  she  winds.  — 15  Battening  :  fattening.  — 19  oaten  :  made  of  reeds 
(straw).  —  20  Satyrs,  Fauns:  Cambridge  students.  See  a  classical  dic- 
tionary.—  22  Damcetas  :  some  Cambridge  teacher.  —  23,24  Notice  the 


NOTES  407 

repeated    phrase.  —  24   must :    expresses    certainty,   not   necessity.  — 
26  gadding  :    straggling.  —  28  copses  :    woods    filled  with  undergrowth. 

—  31  canker :  cankerworm.  —  32  taintworm  :  generally,  but  doubtfully, 
explained   as   a   small   red   spider.  —  34  whitethorn  blows :    hawthorn 
blossoms. 

75  5  [Mona :  Anglesey,  called  by  the  Welsh  poets  the  Dark  Island, 
from  its  dense  forests.]  —  6  [Deva :  the  Dee;  a  river  which  may  have 
derived  its  magical  character  from  Celtic  traditions ;  it  was  long  the 
boundary  of  Briton  and  English.    These  places  are  introduced  as  being 
near  the  scene  of  the  shipwreck.]  —  9  the  Muse  :  Calliope,  the  muse  of 
epic  poetry,  was  the  mother  of  Orpheus.  —  9  [Orpheus :  was  torn  to 
pieces  by  Thracian  women.]  — 12  rout :   wild  crowd.  — 14  Hebrus  :    a 
Thracian  river  said  not  to  be  swift.   The  legend  ran  that  the  head  of 
Orpheus,  thrown  into  the  river  by  angry  Bacchanals,  was  floated  to  the 
island  of  Lesbos  and  there  buried.    For  this  pious  act  the  Lesbians 
were  made  preeminent  in  song,  the  compatriots  of  Sappho.  — 15  boots 
it:    profits   it.  — 15  uncessant :    incessant.  — 16  shepherd's   trade:    not 
the  scholar's  profession,  as  might  be  supposed  here,  but  the  poet's. 
— 17  meditate  :  apply  one's  self  to.  — 18  use  :  are  accustomed  to  do.  — 
19  [Amaryllis,  20  Neaera :  names  used  here  for  the  love  idols  of  poets : 
as  Damoetas  previously  for  a  shepherd.]  —  21  clear  :  noble.  —  21  spirit : 
object  of  raise. — 22  This  line  is  in  apposition  to  Fame. — 24  guerdon: 
reward.  —  26  [the  blind  Fury  :  Atropos,  fabled  to  cut  the  thread  of  life.] 

—  28  touch'd  .  .  .  ears :  Masson  says  that  we  have  here  "  a  fine  poetical 
appreciation  of  the  popular  superstition  that  the  tingling  of  a  person's 
ears  is  a  sign  that  people  are  talking  of  him."    It  seems  more  likely 
that  touching  the  ear  is  a  symbolic  act  intended  to  impress  the  memory, 
and  that  Milton  trembles  because  he  is  in  the  presence  of  the  God  of 
Song.  — 30  glistering  foil :  glittering  show.   Foil  is  literally  a  thin  sheet 
or  leaf  of  metal  put  under  a  jewel  to  set  off  its  luster.    The  figurative 
language  is  mixed,  but  the  general  meaning  is  clear.  —  32  by  :  by  means 
of  (probably).  —  33  witness:  judgment  (perhaps). 

76  1  [Arethuse,  2  Mincius :   Sicilian  and  Italian  waters  here  alluded 
to  as  representing  the  pastoral  poetry  of  Theocritus  and  Vergil.]  — 
4  [oat:  pipe,  used  here  like  Collins's  oaten  stop,  p.  184,  1. 13,  for  song.} 

—  5  herald  of  the  sea:  Triton.  —  6  plea:  defense,  that  is,  to  present  a 
plea  for   Neptune.  — 12   [Hippotades :    vEolus,   god    of   the   winds.]  — 
13  his :  This  may  refer  to  Hippotades  or  to  blast.    If  to  the  latter,  it 
means  its.  — 15  [Panope:   a  Nereid.    Certain  names  of  local  deities  in 
the  Hellenic  mythology  render  some  feature  in  the  landscape,  which 
the  Greeks  studied  and  analyzed  with  their  usual  unequaled  insight  and 
feeling.   Panope  seems  to  express  the  boundlessness  of  the  ocean  hori- 
zon when  seen  from  a  height,  as  compared  with  the  limited  sky  line  of 
the  land  in  hilly  countries  such  as  Greece  or  Asia  Minor.]  — 19  [Camus : 


408  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

the  Cam,  put  for  King's  university.]  — 19  went  footing  slow :  wended 
his  way  slowly,  approached  with  deliberate  pace.  —  22  [that  sanguine 
flower :  the  Hyacinth  of  the  ancients,  probably  our  Iris.]  —  23  reft : 
taken  away.  —  25  [The  Pilot :  Saint  Peter,  probably  introduced  as  head 
of  the  Church  on  earth,  to  foretell  "  the  ruin  of  our  corrupted  clergy," 
as  Milton  regarded  them,  "  then  in  their  heighth  "  under  Laud's  primacy.] 

—  27  amain :  with  force.  —  28  mitered  :  crowned  with  a  bishop's  miter. 

—  28  stern   bespake  :    spoke   out   sternly.  —  30  Enow :    a   considerable 
number;  it  is  an  old  plural  of  enough.  —  35  mouths:  gluttons  —  con- 
scienceless clergy  eager  only  for  earthly  gain  and  ease. 

77  3  recks  it  them :  do  they  care.  —  3  are  sped  :  have  gained  what  they 
wanted.  —  4  list:  please.  —  4  flashy:  insipid.  —  5  [scrannel:  screech- 
ing; apparently  Milton's  coinage  (Masson).]  —  9  [wolf:  the  Puritans  of 
the  time  were  excited  to  alarm  and  persecution  by  a  few  conversions  to 
Roman  Catholicism  which  had  recently  occurred.]  — 11,  12  No  one 
knows  surely  what  this  instrument  of  vengeance  is.  It  is  more  impor- 
tant to  remark  that  in  this  indignant  speech  of  Saint  Peter,  which  is  often 
condemned  by  critics  as  being  too  harsh  to  suit  the  tender  mood  in 
which  elegies  are  usually  written,  we  probably  have  the  central  passage, 
the  core  of  the  poem.  Milton  seems  not  to  have  known  King  specially 
well,  but  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  did  know  that  King 
was  a  very  promising  young  clergyman,  whose  loss  could  be  ill  afforded 
by  the  Church  at  that  time.  This  knowledge  was  sufficient  to  inspire 
him  with  that  sincere  regret  which  must  underlie  the  true  elegy,  and  it 
was,  moreover,  sufficient  to  rouse  him  to  a  burst  of  indignant  scorn 
which  lifts  the  elegy  out  of  the  region  of  mild  pastoral  into  that  of  the 
passionate  ode,  the  loftiest  form  of  lyric  poetry.  That  he  fuses  rather 
than  mixes  mechanically  the  elements  of  elegy,  pastoral,  and  ode  into 
an  artistic  whole,  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  "  Lycidas  "  has 
seemed  to  exigent  critics  and  poets  like  Lord  Tennyson  one  of  the 
most  consummate  achievements  of  English  poetry.  The  poem  is  con- 
ventional, as  befitted  a  contribution  to  an  academic  volume ;  it  is  also 
sincere  and  noble,  because  Milton,  looking  beyond  the  fate  of  an  indi- 
vidual to  the  perilous  state  of  the  Church,  treated  his  theme  in  a  large 
and  lofty  manner.  — 13  [Alphe"us :  a  stream  in  southern  Greece,  sup- 
posed to  flow  underseas  to  join  the  Arethuse.]  — 17  use:  have  their 
abodes.  — 19  [swart  star:  Dog  Star,  called  swarthy  because  its  heliacal 
rising  in  ancient  times  occurred  soon  after  midsummer.]  —  20  eyes: 
blossoms.  —  22  purple  :  probably  an  imperative  —  give  color  to  ;  but  as 
Palgrave  does  not  put  a  comma  after  showers,  the  word  must,  as  the 
text  stands,  be  considered  an  indicative.  —  23  [rathe:  early.] — 24  crow- 
toe:  crowfoot.  —  27  well-attired:  with  a  beautiful  headdress. — 30  ama- 
ranthus :  Greek  for  unfading.  —  32  laureat  hearse :  The  best  explana- 
tion is  that  which  refers  to  the  custom  of  attaching  laudatory  verses  to 


NOTES  409 

the  hearse,  a  platform  hung  with  black  and  containing  an  effigy  of  the 
deceased.  Some  think  that  laureate  is  used  because  King  was  a  poet, 
or  else  because  he  had  taken  a  degree. 

78  2  Hebrides :  the  Western  Isles,  along  the  west  coast  of  Scotland. 
—  5  [moist  vows :  either  tearful  prayers,  or  prayers  for  one  at  sea.]  — 
G  [Bellerus  :  a  giant,  apparently  created  by  Milton  to  personify  Belerium, 
the  ancient  title  of  the  Land's  End.]  —  7  [great  Vision:  the  story  was 
that  the  Archangel  Michael  had  appeared  on  the  rock  by  Marazion  in 
Mount's  Bay  which  bears  his  name.    Milton  calls  on  him  to  turn  his 
eyes  from  the  south  homeward,  and  to  pity  Lycidas,  if  his  body  has 
drifted  into  the  troubled  waters  off  the  Land's  End.]    Some  editors, 
however,  hold  that  Lycidas  himself  is  the  person  addressed.    [Finisterre 
being  the  land  due  south  of  Marazion,  two  places  in  that  district  (then 
through  our  trade  with  Corunna  probably  less  unfamiliar  to  English 
ears)  are  named.  —  8  Namancos  :   now  Mujio   in   Galicia.  —  8  Bayona  : 
north  of  the  Minho,  or  perhaps  a  fortified  rock  (one  of  the  Cies  Islands) 
not  unlike  Saint  Michael's  Mount,  at  the  entrance  of  Vigo  Bay.]  — 

8  hold :  castle.  — 10  dolphins :  an  allusion  to  the  saving,  by  these  fish, 
of  the  Greek  poet  Arion.    See  a  classical  dictionary.  —  12  your  sorrow  : 
the  cause  of  your  sorrow.  — 14  day  star  :  the  sun.  — 16  tricks  :  displays. 
— 16  [ore  :   rays  of  golden  light.]  —  22  unexpressive  :   inexpressible.  — 
29  Genius  :   The  ancients  fancied  that  a  drowned  person  might  become 
a  guardian  spirit  at  the  spot  where  he  met  his  fate,  and  warn  others 
from  the  threatened  doom.  —  30  thy  :  to  thee.  —  32  uncouth  :  unknown 
(probably).  —  35  Doric  lay  :  Sicilian  pastoral. 

79  1  The  shadows  of  the  hills  had  lengthened  as  the  sun  declined.  — 

9  had  :  who  had.  — 17  birth  :  Apparently  this  means  high  birth,  but  why 
the  bones  of  the  great  should  use  "  they  "  instead  of  "  we  "  in  the  next 
verse,  is  hard  to  see.  —  22  once  dead  by  fate  :   Mr.  W.  Bell  explains  once 
as  equivalent  to  once  for  all ;  yet  might  it  not  mean  when  once  ? 

808  quaint:  fine,  exquisite.  — 11  blood:  lineage. — 29  purple:  blood- 
stained (probably). 

81  5  {The  assault  was  an  attack  on  London  expected  in]  the  autumn 
of  [1642,  when  the  troops  of  Charles  I  reached  Brentford.  "  Written  on 
his  door  "  was  the  original  title  of  this  sonnet.  Milton  was  then  living 
in  Aldersgate  Street.] — 5  Colonel:  three  syllables.  —  6  Whose  chance: 
whose  lot  it  may  be  to,  who  by  chance.  —  9  charms :  magical  rites  or 
verses,  incantations.  —  13  bower :  house.  —  14  [Emathian  conqueror  : 
When  Thebes  was  destroyed  ,(B-C'  335)  and  the  citizens  massacred 
by  thousands,  Alexander  ordered  the  house  of  Pindar  to  be  spared.] 
Emathia  was  a  province  of  Macedonia.  Pindar  (B.C.  522-443)  was  a 
great  lyric  poet.  — 16, 17  [the  repeated  air  Of  sad  Electra's  poet :  Plutarch 
has  a  tale  that  when  the  Spartan  confederacy  in  404  B.C.  took  Athens, 
a  proposal  to  demolish  it  was  rejected  through  the  effect  produced  on 


410  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

the  commanders  by  hearing  part  of  a  chorus  from  the  Electra  of  Eu- 
ripides] B.C.  480-406  [sung  at  a  feast.  There  is,  however,  no  apparent 
congruity  between  the  lines  quoted  (167,  168,  edition  Dindorf)  and  the 
result  ascribed  to  them.]  Readers  of  Browning  will  recall  his  poem 
"  Balaustion's  Adventure."  —  20  Ere  half  my  days  :  Milton  was  blind  at 
middle  age,  by  the  time  he  was  forty-four. — 21  For  the  parable  in  Milton's 
mind  see  Matthew  xxv.  The  one  talent  is  Milton's  ability,  of  which  he 
has  long  been  conscious,  —  to  write  a  great  poem  which  the  world  would 
not  willingly  let  die.  If  to  hide  preceded  ivhich,  the  construction  would 
be  plainer.  —  24  returning  :  in  return.  —  26  fondly  :  foolishly. 

82  2  gifts  :  to  man.  —  4  thousands  :  of  angels,  of  heavenly  ministers. 
—  7  [A  fine  example  of  a  peculiar  class  of  poetry,  —  that  written  by 
thoughtful  men  who  practiced  this  art  but  little.   Jeremy  Taylor,  Bishop 
Berkeley,  Dr.  Johnson,  Lord  Macaulay,  have  left  similar  specimens.] 
— 12  still :  always.  — 14  private  breath  :  current  opinion  expressed  by 
individuals  —  in  its  worst  form,  gossip.  — 18  Nor:    supply  some  such 
word  &s  follows. — 21  state:  possessions,  way  of  living. — 22  Nor:  The 
construction  is  mixed.   We  may  simplify  it  as  follows  :  Whose  state,  on 
the  one  hand,  cannot  feed  flatterers,  nor  his  ruin,  on  the  other,  make 
oppressors  great. — 25  entertains:  beguiles.  —  27  bands:  bonds. 

83  3  These  lines  are  taken  from  the  long  pindaric  ode  "  To  the  Im- 
mortal Memory  and  Friendship  of  that  Noble  Pair,  Sir  Lucius  Gary 
and  Sir  Henry  Morison,"  to  be  found  in  the  collection  of  miscellaneous 
verses   called  by  Jonson  "Underwoods."  — 13  Herbert   himself   gave 
this  poem  the  quaint  name  of  "  The  Pulley."  —  20  stay :  pause. 

84  6  [These  beautiful  verses  should  be  compared  with  Wordsworth's 
great  ode  on  Immortality]    see  p.  370,  1.  18 ;   [and  a  copy  of  Vaughan's 
very  rare  little  volume]  "  Silex  Scintillans,"  1650  [appears  in  the  list  of 
Wordsworth's  library.    In  imaginative  intensity  Vaughan  stands  beside 
his  contemporary  Marvell.]  — 10  fancy :  conceive,  or  exercise  its  powers 
in.  — 13  Love:  God.  —  23  several:  separate. — 31  heaven,  paradise. 

856  In:  It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  this  means  in  or  mtoy  and  on 
our  answer  will  depend  the  phrase  we  insert  after  state  in  order  to  make 
the  meaning  clear.  There  seems  to  be  little  doubt  that  state  means  the 
innocence  of  infancy.  —  7  This  sonnet,  written  when  Milton  was  about 
forty-seven  years  of  age,  was  addressed  to  a  son  of  an  important  member 
of  Cromwell's  government.  — 10  Help  waste  :  help  each  other  to  spend 
in  a  sociable  way  time  that  hangs  heavy  on  our  hands.  — 12  [Favonius  : 
the  spring  wind.]  — 14  Compare  Matthew  vi,  28.  — 15  neat:  attractive 
in  its  setting.  — 16  Attic:  refined  as  were  the  better  classes  of  the 
Athenians.  — 17  artful :  trained  according  to  th$  rules  of  musical  art. 
— 18  Tuscan :  Here  Tuscany,  of  which  Florence  is  the  chief  city,  is 
used  to  represent  the  whole  of  Italy.  — 19  spare :  refrain  from  mak- 
ing an  inordinate  use  of  them.  —  21  A  companion  sonnet  to  the  one 


NOTES  411 

preceding,  addressed  to  the  grandson  of  the  famous  lawyer,  Sir  Edward 
Coke  ( 1 552-1 634),  who  is  referred  to  in  the  first  four  lines.  —  22  [Themis  : 
the  goddess  of  justice.  Skinner  was  grandson  by  his  mother  to  Sir 
Edward  Coke  ;  hence,  as  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Keightley,  Milton's  allusion 
to  the  bench.}  — 23  volumes  :  for  example,  the  famous  Coke  upon  Littleton, 
that  is,  "  Commentaries  on  Littleton,"  etc.  —  25  resolve  :  an  imperative. 
Thoughts  is  the  object  of  drench.  —  26  after  :  afterwards,  or  after  it. 

86 1  Do  not  occupy  yourself  with  problems  of  mathematics  and 
physics.  Euclid  was  the  great  Alexandrian  geometer  who  flourished 
about  300  B.C.  Archimedes,  who  flourished  half  a  century  later,  was  a 
great  mathematician  and  physicist  of  Syracuse.  —  2  Swede:  plural. 
[Sweden  was  then  at  war  with  Poland,  and  France  with  the  Spanish 
Netherlands.]  —  4  The  involved  syntax  of  this  line  is  very  characteristic 
of  Milton,  but  a  little  thought  resolves  its  difficulties.  —  8  refrains :  neg- 
lects to  use  it.  In  connection  with  each  of  these  sonnets  two  points 
should  be  remembered.  They  show  that  Milton  was  not  altogether 
austere,  that  he  possessed  that  crowning  grace  of  middle  and  old  age, 
the  sympathetic  charm  of  a  rounded  personality  that  comprehends  and 
appeals  to  youth.  They  throw  light  also  both  on  Milton's  tastes  and, 
probably,  on  a  curious  personal  idiosyncrasy,  his  apparent  inability  to 
work  steadily  and  copiously  during  the  colder  part  of  the  year.  It  is  at 
least  certain  that  a  few  years  after  the  date  of  these  sonnets  this  inability 
affected  him  in  the  composition  of  "  Paradise  Lost."  — 13  scaly  nation : 
a  periphrastic  way  of  say'mg  fishes.  — 19  Tritons :  attendants  of  Neptune, 
who  had  by  Amphitrite  a  son  Triton,  trumpeter  to  his  father.  —  24  Sirens : 
see  a  classical  dictionary  and  consult  the  Odyssey.  —  27  noise:  In  the 
older  poets  this  word  is  frequently  employed  of  sounds  that  have  no 
disagreeable  character.  —  28  empery  :  imperial  rule. 

87  1  This  song  is  from  "  Cynthia's  Revels,"  Act  V,  scene  iii.  —  5  Hes- 
perus :  the  evening  star,  who  is  the  singer  of  this  song.  — 11  wished : 
wished  for.  — 19  Palgrave  condensed  this  poem  by  about  one  half. — 
24  That  is,  in  the  obscure  book  of  fate.  —  27  tread  :  to  tread. 

88  7  her :  for  her.  —  8  duty  :  the  homage  paid  to  it.  —  9  tire  :  head- 
dress. —  11  Taffeta :  a  thin  stuff,  partly  of  silk.  — 11  tissue  :  cloth  inter- 
woven with  gold  or  silver.  — 11  can  :  know  how  to  make  up  (perhaps). 
— 15  alone  :  by  itself.  — 19  [Sidneian  showers  :  either  in  allusion  to  the 
conversations  in  the  "Arcadia,"  or  to  Sidney  himself  as  a  model  of 
"  gentleness  "  in  spirit  and  demeanor.]  —  24  give  down  to :  render  sleep- 
giving.  —  28-30  Days  that  can  salute  us  in  a  pleasant  manner,  free  from 
the  effects  of  any  previous  night  wasted  in  suffering. 

895  his:  its.  —  5  end:  death.  —  0  say:  dependent  on  dares.  —  8  may: 
which  may.  —  8,  9  poor  Of  wishes  :  with  nothing  left  to  wish  for.  — 
12  them  :  for  themselves.  —  21  determine  them  to  :  give  them  the  form 
of.  —  24  her  story  :  be  true  in  her. 


4**  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

00 1  t/iife  the  ocean.  — 10  fast :  tight.  —  14  for  :  wMu  respect  to - 

21  lose :  get  ffd  «£,— 29, 30  This  is  used  as  an  impossibility  which  is  never- 
theless not  so>  febJXMllbfe  as  to  control  love.  The  eagle  cannot  be  trained 
like  a  hawfc  to  the  purposes  of  hunting.  —  30  stoop :  to  pounce  or  swc«sp> 
down  on.— B0  tayoilr  fist;  since  it  is  used  with  stoop,  the  object  of  whichi 
is  the  prey,  this  pftfafrfy  means  w  at  a  signal  given  by  your  handl"' 

91  4  [Delicate  humor,  delightfully  united  to  thought,  at  once  sMaple 
and  subtle.  It  is  full  of  conceit  and  paradox,  but  these  are  imaginative., 
not  as  with  most  of  our  seventeenth-century  poets,  intellectual  only.]  -— - 
17  ensigns  :  banners,  flags.  — 19  virtuous :  There  seems  to  be  no  means 
of  determining  whether  Marvell  uses  this  epithet  in  the  sense  of 
powerful,  or  whether  he  means  rather  chaste  and  pure.  —  29  Enchants 
itself  at  thy  beauty. 

9212  Treat  you  as  you  have  treated  them,  — 15  Mr.  W.  Bell  notes 
that  Palgrave  follows  the  version  of  this  song  given  in  Allan  Ramsay's 
**  Tea  Table  Miscellany,"  1724.  The  song  appeared  originally  in  Sedley's 
comedy  "  The  Mulberry  Garden,"  1668. 

93  3  Still :  even,  With  this  song  should  be  read  MarvelPs  "  Young: 
Love  "  and  Prior's  inimitable  "  To  a  Child  of  Quality  Five  Years  Old," 
neither  of  which  is  given  by  Palgrave. 

$4?11  having  lost  but  r  only  having  lost.  —  25  [Elizabeth  of  Bohemia: 
daughter  to- James  1,  afltd  ancestor  of  Sophia  of  Hanover.  These  lme& 
are  a  fine  sj>eeirnen  of  gallant  and  courtly  compliment] 

95  7  Philoflnet  :•  The  nightingale.  See  a  classical  dictionary,  under 
Philomela.  — 18  [Lady  M.  Ley  was  daughter  to  Sir  J.  Ley,  afterwards. 
Earl  of  Maryborough,  who  died  March,  1629,  coincidently  with  the  dis- 
solution  of  the  third  parliament  of  Charles's  reign.  Hence  Milton  poeti- 
cally compares  his  death  to  that  of  the  orator  Isocrates  of  Athens, 
after  Philip's  victory  in  328  B.C.]  This  sonnet  was  published  in  Mil- 
ton's earliest  collection  of  poems,  1645;  it  is  therefore  dated  ten  or 
more  years  earlier  than  the  sonnet  tributes  to  friends  already  given.  — 
21  Supply  after  content  some  such  phrase  as  "  than  he  had  been  with 
political  honors  heaped  upon  him."  —  22  The  idea  is  that  from  the  dis- 
solution of  this  parliament  dated  the  arbitrary  conduct  of  the  king  that 
led  to  the  Civil  War.  —  26  later  born:  Milton  was  a  very  young  man 
when  the  earl  died. 

962  Notice  the  irregular  position  of  both.  —  4  For  some  inscrutable 
reason  Carew,  the  most  perfect  master  of  courtly  compliment  in  verse, 
is  represented  in  the  "  Golden  Treasury "  by  only  this  lovely  poem. 
Students  should  turn  to  the  more  adequate  selections  from  his  work 
given  in  the  second  volume  of  Ward's  "  English  Poets,"  or  to  the  edi- 
tion of  his  poems  in  the  "  Muses  Library."  Perhaps  his  masterpiece  is 
the  famous  "Ask  me  no  more  where  Jove  bestows." —22  Whenas :  since, 
in  view  of  the  fact  that, 


NOTES 

97  10  borrow :  take  away.  — 10  resemble  :  compare. 

98  6  w  From   the   (prose)   love  letters   of   Philostratus   the  younger 
(about  250  A.D.)"  (note  in  Ward's  "  English  Poets").    The  song  appeared 
in  1616  in  Jonson's  collection  "The  Forest." — 13  change:  exchange. 

994  orient:  bright.  —  5  Which  when:  and  when  them  (object  of 
shows).  —  9  still :  always.  — 15  [A  masterpiece  of  humor,  grace,  and 
gentle  feeling,  all,  with  Herrick's  unfailing  art,  kept  precisely  within 
the  peculiar  field  which  he  chose  —  or  Nature  chose  for  him  —  in  his 
Pastorals.]  — 10  [the  god  unshorn  :  Imberbis  Apollo]  the  sun.  — 18  Fresh- 
quilted  :  freshly-stitched,  combined.  —  27  Whenas  :  since,  seeing  that. 

1006  Against  you  come:  in  anticipation  of  your  coming.  —  0  orient: 
bright.  —  8  dew-locks  :  dewy  locks.  —  9  Titan  :  the  sun.  — 12  [beads  : 
prayers.]  — 13-20  "  On  the  calands  or  first  of  May,  commonly  called 
May-day,  the  juvenile  part  of  both  sexes  were  wont  to  rise  a  little  after 
midnight  and  walk  to  some  neighboring  wood,  accompanied  with  music 
and  blowing  of  horns,  where  they  brake  down  branches  from  the  trees 
and  adorn  them  with  nosegays  and  crowns  of  flowers ;  when  this  is 
done,  they  return  with  their  booty  homewards  about  the  rising  of  the 
sun,  and  make  their  doors  and  windows  to  triumph  with  their  flowery- 
spoils  ;  and  the  after  part  of  the  day  is  chiefly  spent  in  dancing  round' 
a  tall  poll,  which  is  called  a  may-poll "  (quoted  in  Strutt,  "  Sports  and'. 
Pastimes  of  the  People  of  England  ").  — 18  tabernacle :  a  tent,  a  transient: 
shelter.  In  Jewish  history,  the  portable  sanctuary  of  the  race  in  its; 
wanderings.  Compare  Exodus  xxv-xxvii  and  xxxvi-xxxviii,  and  in  par- 
ticular Leviticus  xxiii,  40-43.  — 32  left  to  :  ceased  to. 

101 1  green-gown :  "  a  romp  in  the  new-mown  hay  or  on  the  grass  " 
(W.  Bell).  —  8  take:  take  advantage  of.  This  last  stanza  marks  Herrick's 
highest  flight  into  the  heaven  of  poetry,  but  it  is  essentially  a  pagan 
stanza.  —  22  Kindles:  excites,  calls  out,  produces.  See  the  Century 
Dictionary.  — 24  With  charming  negligence.  — 24  distracti6n  :  four  syl- 
lables, as  often  in  the  older  poets,  especially  the  dramatists.  — 25  erring  : 
wandering,  stray.  —  27  neglectful :  not  looked  after.  —  27  thereby  :  by 
its  side. 

102  3  wild  civility :  a  spontaneous  touch  of  the  sort  of  grace  that  is 
usually  associated  with  studied  fashion.    It  is  the  figure  of  speech  known 
as  oxymoron,  the  joining  of  words  of  more  or  less  opposite  meaning. — 
0  Whenas :  when.  —  8  The  poet  is  alluding  to  the  flow  and  the  shim- 
mering of  the  silk  dress.  — 10  brave:  fine.  — 12  wit:   intelligence. — 
10  miss  :  want,  lack. 

103  4  pale :  inclosure.  — 11  [With  better  taste,  and  less  diffusiveness, 
Quarles  might  (one  would   think)   have  retained  more  of  that  high 
place  which  he  held  in  popular  estimate  among  his  contemporaries.] 
— 18  entire  :  one  whole.  —  27  counter  to  :   imitation  coin,  as  compared 
with. 


414  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

104  2  Protestant :  Perhaps  this  means  champion,  but,  as  Professor 
Saintsbury  suggests,  it  is  better  to  leave  the  meaning  somewhat  indefi- 
nite.   It  is  a  fine,  mouth-filling  word. 

105  4,  5  still :  does  this  word  mean  the  same  thing  in  both  verses  ? 
And  note  the  meanings  of  so  in  lines  2  and  5.  — 13  face  I  only:  face 
alone  I.  — 19  further  store:  that  is,  for  more  sweethearts.  —  23  [From 
Prison :  to  which  his  active   support  of  Charles  I   twice  brought  the 
high-spirited  writer.] 

106  1  [Gods :  thus  in  the  original ;    Lovelace,   in  his   fanciful  way, 
making  here  a  mythological  allusion.    Birds,  commonly  substituted,  is 
without  authority.]  —  1  wanton  :  sport.  —  4  Undiluted  with  water  of  the 
river.  —  5  careless  :  free  from  care.  — 11   [committed  :  to  prison.] 

1075  'suage:  assuage.  —  6  [blue-god:  Neptune.]  —  9  Supply  be  or 
lie.  The  student  will  do  well  to  compare  this  poem  with  109,  and  to 
note  how  the  perfect  simplicity  and  lack  of  effort  discernible  in  the 
shorter  piece  have  helped  to  make  it  much  the  better  known.  —  21  This 
famous  song  appeared  in  the  drama  "Aglaura,"  published  in  1638. — 
21  fond :  foolish. 

108  6  This   song   is   taken   from  the  third  book  of  Cowley's  epic 
"  Davideis,  a  Sacred  Poem  of  the  Troubles  of  David."  — 15  awful :  full 
of  awe,  not  awe-inspiring.  — 16  numerous:  musical. — 20  virtue:  powei 
(a  frequent  meaning  of  the  word  in  the  early  poets). 

109  12  silly :  simple,  innocent.  — 12  pined :   made  to  pine  or  suffer. 
— 17  pelican  :  This  bird  was  supposed  to  allow  its  young  to  feed  upon 
its  own  lifeblood.  —  31  outward  helps:    apparently,   social   advantages 
possessed  by  the  lover. 

11021  mortifies:  chastens.  —  26  fowls:  birds.  —  28  parting:  of  one 
departing,  dying.  —  30  still  gloomy  :  ever  gloomy. 

Ill  1  [Waly  waly :  an  exclamation  of  sorrow]  pronounced  waw-ly 
[the  root  and  the  pronunciation  of  which  are  preserved  in  the  word 
caterwaul.'}  —  2  [brae:  hillside.]  —  3  burn  :  brook.  —  7  syne  :  after  that. 

—  8  lichtly:    make  light  of.  — 13   [busk:    adorn.]  — 19  [Saint  Anton's 
well:  below  Arthur's  Seat  by  Edinburgh.]  —  21  Marti' mas  :  Martinmas, 
the  festival  of  St.  Martin  of  France,  formerly  celebrated  on  November  1 1. 

—  25  fell:  cruelly.  —  27  sic:  such. 

1122  [cramasie:  crimson.]  —  3  wist:  known.  —  5  gowd:  gold.  Com- 
pare siller  (silver)  in  the  next  line.  — 11  [These  stanzas  are  by  Richard 
Verstegan  (fl.  1565-1620),  a  poet  and  antiquarian,  published  in  his  rare 
"Odes"  (1601),  under  the  title  "Our  Blessed  Ladies  Lullaby,"  and 
reprinted  by  Mr.  Orby  Shipley  in  his  beautiful  "  Carmina  Mariana " 
(1893).  The  four  verses  here  given  form  the  opening  of  a  hymn  of 
twenty-four.]  These  verses  also  appear  in  Martin  Peerson's  M  Private 
Music,"  a  songbook  of  1620.  — 14  my  sense  her  rest:  my  emotions  or 
sensations  some  repose. 


NOTES  415 

1131  for:  in  return  for.  —  5  Tradition  says  that  the  lovers  were 
Adam  Fleming  and  Helen  Irving  (or  Bell),  daughter  of  the  Laird  of 
Kirconnell.  The  rival  suitor,  starting  up  on  the  other  side  of  the  river 
Kirtle  by  which  the  lovers  were  walking,  shot  Helen  in  Adam's  arms. 
— 11  [burd  :  maiden.]  — 15  meikle  :  much. 

11410  een:  eyes.  —  ITalane:  alone.  — 18  [corbies:  crows.]  — 18  mane: 
moan.  — 19  The  tane  :  the  one.  —  21  [fail :  turf.] 

1153  [hause  :  neck.]  —  3  bane:  bone.  —  5  ae  :  one.  —  5  gowden  : 
golden.  —  6  [theek :  thatch.  If  not  in  their  origin,  in  their  present  form 
this,  with  the  preceding  poem  and  133,  appear  due  to  the  seventeenth 
century,  and  have  therefore  been  placed  in  Book  II.]  — 11  [The  poetical 
and  the  prosaic,  after  Cowley's  fashion,  blend  curiously  in  this  deep-felt 
elegy-]  — 19  Peer  :  equal.  —  24  around  :  To  be  construed  with  besieged. 

1166  inform:  give  life  to.  —  21  spirits:  distillation. 

1185  pledges:  children. — 7  date:  span  of  life.  —  7  so  past:  so  far 
gone  that  you  may  not.  — 19  brave  :  fine.  —  20  pride  :  glory. 

119  17  [Perhaps  no  poem  in  this  collection  is  more  delicately  fancied, 
more  exquisitely  finished.  By  placing  his  description  of  the  Fawn  in  a 
young  girl's  mouth,  Marvell  has,  as  it  were,  legitimated  that  abundance 
of  "  imaginative  hyperbole  "  to  which  he  is  always  partial :  he  makes 
us  feel  it  natural  that  a  maiden's  favorite  should  be  whiter  than  milk, 
sweeter  than  sugar  —  "lilies  without,  roses  within."  The  poet's  imagi- 
nation is  justified  in  its  seeming  extravagance  by  the  intensity  and  unity 
with  which  it  invests  his  picture.]  Palgrave  has  given  only  about  a  third 
of  this  beautiful  poem,  which  goes  by  the  title  of  "  The  Nymph  Com- 
plaining for  the  Death  of  her  Fawn." 

12014  laid:  lay.  — 19  still:  ever.  —  25  [The  remark  quoted  in  the 
note  to  No.  65  applies  equally  to  these  truly  wonderful  verses.  Marvell 
here  throws  himself  into  the  very  soul  of  the  "  Garden  "  with  the  imagi- 
native intensity  of  Shelley  in  his  "  West  Wind."  This  poem  appears  also 
as  a  translation  in  Marvell's  works.  The  most  striking  verses  in  it,  here 
quoted  as  the  book  is  rare,  answer  more  or  less  to  stanzas  2  and  6 : 

Alma  Quies,  teneo  te !  et  te,  germana  Quietis, 
Simplicitas  !  vos  ergo  diu  per  templa,  per  urbes 
Quaesivi,  regum  perque  alta  palatia,  frustra : 
Sed  vos  hortorum  per  opaca  silentia,  longe 
Celarunt  plantae  virides,  et  concolor  umbra.] 

—  25  amaze:  perplex.  —  26  The  rewards  of  soldier,  public-spirited  citi- 
zen, and  poet  or  scholar. — 27  uncessant:  incessant. — 29  narrow-verged: 
brought  into  small  compass. 

121  9  all  but  rude  :  little  short  of  barbarous.  — 10  To  :  in  comparison 
with.  — 13  Fond:  silly  (perhaps).  —  22  Still:  always.  —  23  Daphne:  see 
a  classical  dictionary  (also  for  Syrinx,  line  25).  —  31  curious:  suiting  a 
dainty  taste. 


416  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

122  1  pleasure  less :  a  pleasure  that  is  worthless  (physical,  sensuous 
pleasure).  —  3  kind:  nature,  disposition,  or  perhaps,  object. — 4  straight: 
straightway.  —  7,  8  The  poet,  says  Bell,  in  an  ecstasy  of  imaginative 
delight,  almost  becomes  one  with  the  scene  he  contemplates.    But  is 
this  a  true  interpretation  of  the  mental  state  indicated  by  these  not  very 
clear  lines  in  a  not  very  clear  but  exquisitely  beautiful  stanza?    The 
poet  really  seems  to  reduce  the  tangible  world  to  nothingness  in  com- 
parison with  the  ideal  world  which  is  the  result  of  a  "  green  thought  in 
a  green  shade,"  that  is,  of  his  meditations  in  the  garden.  — 14  whets : 
prunes. — 20  meet:  proper,  fitting. — 21  share:  of  happiness. — 23,24  A 
conceit,  not  specially  worthy  of  Marvell,  depending  on  a  play  upon  two 
senses  of  the  word  "  paradise." —  27  milder  :  comparatively  mild.    This 
construction  is  known  as  the  absolute  comparative. 

123  1  The  title  means  "  Too  Happy."    It  is  an  allusion  to  Vergil's 
line,   Georgics  ii,  458.  —  2  still:  always.  —  7  Lash  out:  spend  freely. — 
8  silver  penny  :  a  coin  weighing  twenty-two  and  one-half  and  later  twenty 
grains.    The  copper  penny  was  first  struck   at  the  beginning  of  the 
seventeenth  century.   There  used  to  be  gold  pennies.   See  the  Century 
Dictionary.  —  9  nappy  :  strong.  —  12  crabs  :  crab  apples.  — 16  care  :  all 
their  care  is.  —  19  [tutties  :  nosegays.]  —  23  Makes  :  either,  makes  the 
hedge  with  the  result  that  others,  trespassers  or  hunters,  break  it  down  ; 
or,  repairs  the  hedge  which  others  in  their  carelessness  have  broken  down. 

1241  for:  despite. — 2  Securer:  more  free  from  care.  —  2  [silly: 
simple.]  — 3  ["  L'Allegro  "  and  "  II  Penseroso."  It  is  a  striking  proof  of 
Milton's  astonishing  power,  that  these,  the  earliest  great  lyrics  of  the 
landscape  in  our  language,  should  still  reign  supreme  in  their  style  for 
range,  variety,  and  melodious  beauty.  The  bright  and  the  thoughtful 
aspects  of  nature  and  of  life  are  their  subjects  :  but  each  is  preceded  by  a 
mythological  introduction  in  a  mixed  classical  and  Italian  manner.  With 
that  of  "  L'Allegro  "  may  be  compared  a  similar  myth  in  the  first  sec- 
tion of  the  first  book  of  Shackerley  Marmion's  graceful  ft  Cupid  and 
Psyche,"  1637.]  —  4  Cerberus:  the  three-headed  dog  that  guarded  the 
gates  of  hell.  —  5  Stygian:  The  Styx  was  the  river  encircling  Hades, 
over  which  souls  were  ferried  by  Charon.  Cerberus  had  a  den  beyond 
the  Styx.  —  7  uncouth:  -unknown  and  repulsive.  — 12  Cimmerian:  The 
Cimmerians  are  mentioned  in  the  Odyssey  (xi,  14)  as  dwelling  in  gloom 
and  cloud  at  the  ends  of  the  ocean.  — 14  yclept:  called  (a  past  parti- 
ciple of  an  obsolete  verb).  — 14  Euphrosyne :  one  of  the  three  Graces. 
See  a  classical  dictionary.  —  26  So  "  full  of  life,  joy,  and  easy  grace."  — 
29  Clever  sayings,  humorous  turns  of  speech,  and  playful  tricks. — 
31  Hebe  :  the  goddess  of  youth  who  poured  out  nectar  for  the  gods. 

1252  Care:  The  direct  object  of  derides.  —  7  [The  mountain-nymph: 
compare  Wordsworth's  sonnet,  No.  254.]  —  9  of:  to.  Palgrave  says 
that  this  line  "  is  in  apposition  with  the  preceding,  by  a  syntactical 


NOTES  417 

license  not  uncommon  with  Milton."  He  must  have  miscounted.  Per- 
haps he  meant  to  refer  to  lines  12  and  16,  which  may  be  taken  as  infini- 
tives in  apposition  with  the  unreprovtd  (unreprovable)  pleasures  of 
line  ii.  — 16  to  come:  who  is  to  come,  the  bird  or  the  poet?  On  this 
question  the  commentators  have  expended  much  energy,  involving 
themselves  in  tangled  syntactical  exegesis  and  in  a  discussion  of  the 
habits  of  larks.  It  is  more  natural  for  a  poet  to  go  to  his  own  window 
than  for  a  lark  to  come  down  to  salute  him.  — 18  sweetbrier  :  eglantine, 
or  wild  rose.  The  real  eglantine  is  not  twisted,  and  the  twisted  eglantine 
of  line  19  may  be  the  honeysuckle.  —  24  listening  :  refers  to  L' Allegro 
himself.  —  30  Right  against :  toward.  —  33  dight :  clad. 

126  4  Straight :  straightway.  —  5  round  :  generally  construed  with 
measures,  but  it  seems  rather  to  go  with  landscape.  —  6  lawns:  open, 
grass-grown  fields.  —  0  fallows  :  unsown  ground.  —  9  laboring  :  about 
to  bring  forth  rain.  — 10  pied  :  variegated.  — 13  Bosom'd  :  inclosed, 
contained.  — 15  Cynosure  :  In  Greek  the  word  meant  "dog's  tail,"  and 
it  was  used  to  designate  the  stars  making  up  the  tail  of  the  Lesser  Bear, 
including  the  pole  star.  Hence  it  has  the  general  meaning  of  anything 
that  attracts  great  attention.  — 18  [Corydon,  Thyrsis :  shepherd  names 
from  the  old  idylls.] — 21  neat-handed:  skillful.  —  26  secure:  free  from 
care. — 27  upland:  out  of  the  way,  remote. — 29  [rebecks :  an  elementary 
form  of  violin.]  —  32  come  :  It  seems  best  to  treat  this  as  an  indicative, 
not  as  a  participle  agreeing  with  young  and  old,  treated  as  objects  of 
"  to  "  understood.  —  35  This  line  refers  to  a  drink  composed  of  hot  ale, 
nutmeg,  roasted  apples,  and  other  ingredients. 

1271  Mab:  supposed  to  bestow  dreams.  Compare  "Romeo  and 
Juliet,"  Act  I,  scene  iv,  11.  53-95.  —  1  junkets  eat:  ate  the  sweetmeats. 
— 2  The  women  and  men  servants  tell  of  their  experiences  with  the 
fairies,  who  were  supposed  to  pinch  lazy  menials.  The  construction 
here  and  two  lines  below  is  awkward.  Perhaps  the  subject  of  Tells  is 
another  servant.  —  3  Friar's  lantern :  the  will-o'-the-wisp  or  jack-o'- 
lantern. —  4  Goblin:  Robin  Goodfellow  or  Hobgoblin,  who  would  per- 
form services  if  paid  in  milk  or  cream.  —  9  lubber:  strong  and  clumsy. 
— 12  crop-full:  gorged  with  food.  — 13  matin :  salutation  to  the  morn 
ing.  — 16  In  the  following  lines,  critics  are  divided  as  to  whether 
L'Allegro  actually  goes  to  the  city  to  seek  its  pleasures,  or  only  reads 
plays  and  hears  music.  — 19  weeds :  garments.  —  20  store  of :  abundance 
of.  —  23  her  :  refers  to  the  chief  favorite  among  the  ladies.  —  24  Hymen : 
the  god  of  marriage.  —  26  pomp  :  a  solemn  procession.  —  30  anon  :  soon 
after.  —  31  [Jonson's  learned  sock:  his  comedies  are  deeply  colored  by 
classical  study.]  The  actors  in  ancient  comedy  wore  a  low  shoe,  the 
soccus ;  in  tragedy,  a  higher  buskin  or  cothurnus.  —  33  This  line,  and 
indeed  the  passage,  should  not  be  construed,  as  is  sometimes  done,  to 
lend  countenance  to  the  view  that  Milton  did  not  thoroughly  appreciate 


4i8  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

Shakespeare's  greatness,  and  thought  him  lacking  in  art.  He  is  con- 
trasting Shakespeare's  comedies  with  those  of  Ben  Jonson,  and  the 
language  he  employs  accomplishes  well  his  purpose.  Besides,  some 
almost  contemporary  lines,  by  Sir  John  Suckling,  who  was  a  great 
admirer  of  Shakespeare,  contrast  the  two  dramatists  in  much  the  same 
fashion,  which  quite  possibly  represents  the  usual  criticism  of  the  day. 

—  35  [Lydian  airs:  used  here  to  express  a  light  and  festive  style  of 
ancient  music.    The  "  Lydian  Mode,"  one  of  the  seven  original  Greek 
scales,  is  nearly  identical  with  our  "  Major."] 

128  1  pierce :  a  true  rime  to  verse,  though  not  so  in  modern  pronun- 
ciation, except  occasionally  when  the  word  is  used  as  a  proper  name. 

—  2  bout:  turn  in  the  music. — 4  This  line  illustrates  the  figure  known 
as  oxymoron,  the  epithets  being,  literally  speaking,  inapplicable  to  the 
nouns  they  accompany.  —  5  mazes:  difficult  passages  of  the  music.— 
8  That:   so  that.  —  8  Orpheus:   compare  "  Lycidas,"  p.  75,  lines  9-14. 
— 10  Elysian :  The  Elysian  Fields  were  the  abode  of  the  blessed  after 
death.  — 12  Pluto :  the  ruler  of  the  underworld  or  Hades.    Milton  de- 
scribes the  music  as  so  beautiful  that,  if  he  had  heard  it  instead  of  the 
music  of  Orpheus,  Pluto  would  have  released  unconditionally  the  latter's 
wife.  — 18    [bestead:    avail.]  — 19  toys:    trifles.  — 21   fond:    foolish.— 
21  possess:  occupy  —  with  either  fancies  or  yourselves  (understood)  as 
object.    In  the  latter  case,  the  meaning  is  "  occupy  yourselves  with 
fancies,"  etc. — 25  pensioners:  followers. — 25  Morpheus:  the  god  of  sleep. 

1291  esteem:  estimation. — 2  Prince Memnon's sister :  Himera.  Noth- 
ing is  known  of  her  beauty,  but  the  poet  infers  that  she  was  more  beau- 
tiful than  her  brother,  the  king  of  the  Ethiopians.  See  a  classical 
dictionary  for  Memnon  and  the  other  names  in  this  passage. — 2  beseem : 
suit.  —  3  [starr'd  Ethiop  queen :  Cassiopeia,  the  legendary  queen  of 
Ethiopia,  and  thence  translated  amongst  the  constellations.]  — 17  grain  : 
purple. — 19  Cipres:  This  is  generally  printed  cypress,  a  word  of  unknown 
origin,  meaning  a  sort  of  crape.  It  is  often  confused  with  Cyprus, 
where  the  crape  was  supposed  to  be  made.  Palgrave  first  read  cypres. 

—  20  decent:  comely.  —  23  commercing:  having  communion. — 25  still: 
motionless.  —  32  Aye  :  always. 

1303  hist:  allure  by  quiet  calls.  —  4  Philomel:  the  nightingale. — 
5  plight :  strain  (or  else,  mood).  —  7  [Cynthia  :  the  moon.  Milton  seems 
here  to  have  transferred  to  her  chariot  the  dragons  anciently  assigned 
to  Demeter  and  to  Medea.]  —  22  Curfew:  the  bell  that  sounded  about 
eight  or  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  to  warn  householders  to  extinguish 
fires  and  lights.  From  the  French  couvre-feu.  —  26  still  removed:  quiet 
and  removed.  —  28  Make  "  darkness  visible."  Compare  "  Paradise 
Lost,"  i,  63.  —  35  out-watch  the  Bear :  study  till  daybreak,  when  the 
constellation  of  the  Great  Bear  is  no  longer  visible.  —  36  [Hermes: 
called  Trismegistus,  a  mystical  writer  of  the  Neo-Platonist  school.]  II 


NOTES  419 

Penseroso  will  study  his  writings  as  well  as  those  of  the  great  Greek 
philosopher,  Plato,  in  order  to  learn  the  secrets  of  the  spiritual  universe. 

131  7  consent :    affinity.  —  11  [Thebes,    etc. :    subjects    of   Athenian 
tragedy.]  — 13  Milton   is  almost  certainly  alluding  to    Shakespeare's 
tragedies.  — 14  [buskin'd  :  tragic,  in  opposition  to  sock  above],  the  word 
used  in  the  corresponding  passage  in  "L 'Allegro." — 16  [Musaeus  :  a 
poet  in  mythology.]  —  21  [him  that  left  half-told  :  Chaucer,  in  his  incom- 
plete "  Squire's  Tale."]  —  28  [great  bards  :  Ariosto,  Tasso,  and  Spenser, 
are  here  presumably  intended.]  —  30  trophies  :  arms  or  banners  of  the  foe 
hung  up  in  sign  of  victory.  —  34  civil-suited  :  simply  clad.  —  35  [frounced : 
curled.]  — 36  [the  Attic  Boy  :  Cephalus.] 

132  3  still :  probably   an   adjective   qualifying  shower  and  =  gentle. 
—  4  his  :  its.  — 6  minute  drops  :  drops  that  fall  at  the  rate  of  about  one 
a  minute  (not  mimite  drops).  — 10  Sylvan:    Sylvanus,  the  Roman  god 
of  woods  and  fields.  — 16  profaner:  less  sympathetic.  — 17  garish:  glar- 
ing, staring.  —  21  consort :    company  of  consonant  sounds.  —  23-25  A 
yery  obscure  passage  ;  his  wings  may  be  those  of  sleep  or  of  the  dream. 
• —  27  breathe  :  how  should  this  be  parsed  ?  —  30  Genius  :  presiding  or 
guardian  spirit.  —  32  pale  :  inclosure.  —  34  massy  proof  :   massive,  and 
hence  able  to  bear  the  weight  of  the  roof.  —  35  storied  :  telling  in  pictures 
a  Biblical  story.  —  35  dight :  arrayed. 

133  3  clear :  clearly  sung,  or  pure.  — 10  spell :  con,  reflect  upon ;  not 
necessarily  mztf'.  — 17  [Emigrants  supposed  to  be  driven  towards  America 
by  the  government  of  Charles  I.]    Marvell  doubtless  heard  much  of  the 
Bermudas,  or  Somers  Islands,  from  his  friend  John  Oxenbridge,  who 
had  taken  refuge  there  from  Laud's  tyranny.  —  23  wracks :   wrecks, 
destroys.  —  30  enamels  :  makes  bright. 

134  5  Jewels :  seeds.  —  5  Ormus :  a  small  kingdom  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Persian  Gulf  notable  for  its  commerce  and  wealth.  —  7  throws : 
Notice  the  imaginative  effect  produced  by  this  concrete  verb,  —  how  it 
increases  our  sense  of  the  natural  profusion.  —  8  [But  apples :  A  fine 
example  of  MarvelPs  imaginative  hyperbole.]  —  21  Mexique  bay :  Gulf 
of  Mexico.  —  29  pierce :  Note  again  that  this  word  makes  a  good  rime 
with  verse.  —  30  phantasy  :  imagination.  —  31   [consent :  harmony.] 

135  1  Aye :  ever.  — 12  noise :  This  word  in  this  connection  did  not 
offend  our  early  poets.  — 17  diapason:   compare  p.  67,  1.  20. —  21  con- 
sort:   harmony.  —  23   The    title    means,    "night   unto    night    sheweth 
knowledge."    See  the  nineteenth  Psalm.  —  26  Compare  p.  129,  1.  3. 

136  7  character :  form  of  print  or  handwriting,  the  metaphor  of  the 
"volume"  (p.  135,  1.  30)  being  continued  (see  below,  p.  136,  1.  n). 

137  5  [A  lyric  of  a  strange,  fanciful,  yet  solemn  beauty :  Cowley's  style 
intensified  by  the  mysticism  of  Henry  More.] — 13  [monument :  the  world.] 
— 18  council:  compare  "Paradise  Lost,"  vii,  516  seq. — 20  reign1  st :  the 
sequence  of  tenses  suggests  "  reigned'st." 


420 


THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 


138  1  This  is  the  opening  strophe  of  a  much  longer  poem.  —  8  [En- 
titled "A  Song  in  Honor  of  St.  Cecilia's  Day:  1697."]  This  is  one  of 
the  most  perfectly  constructed  odes  in  English,  and  is  specially  notable 
for  combining  with  consummate  lyric  power  and  felicity  a  moving 
dramatic  and  a  vivid  descriptive  quality.  It  is  one  of  the  supreme 
triumphs  of  English  poetry,  a  fact  not  sufficiently  remembered  by  those 
who  think  of  Dryden  chiefly  as  a  satirist.  —  8  Persia  won  :  the  winning 
of  Persia.  — 10  awful :  awe  inspiring.  — 16  Thais  :  For  this  companion 
of  Alexander  and  for  the  hero  himself  see  a  classical  dictionary. — 
23  Timotheus :  a  Theban  flute  player  whose  music  did  greatly  affect 
Alexander. 

1393  belied:  disguised. — 4  Sublime:  aloft. — 5  Olympia:  Alexander's 
mother,  Olympias.  — 11  rebound:  reecho.  — 14  god:  the  part  of  a  god. 

—  21  purple:  rosy  (probably).  —  22  honest:  good-looking  and  kindly. — 

23  hautboys:    oboes  (wooden  wind  instruments   of  soprano  compass). 
From  the  French  haul  bois,  literally  M  high  wood." 

1403  his  hand:  Timotheus's.  —  4  Muse:  nearly  equivalent  here  to 
"  musical  mood."  —  6  Darius :  the  third  of  that  name  to  rule  over 
Persia.  See  a  classical  dictionary  or  a  manual  of  ancient  history. — 

24  Lydian  :    see  above,  p.  127,  1.  35. — 34   The   many:    compare   the 
Greek  01  vroXXot. 

141  6  at  once  :  at  one  and  the  same  time.  — 14  As :  as  if.  —  24  un- 
buried :  To  remain  unburied  was,  in  the  opinion  of  the  ancients,  to 
continue  in  a  state  of  spiritual  wretchedness.  Compare  the  "  Antigone  " 
of  Sophocles,  and  Horace,  Book  I,  ode  xxviii.  —  30  their  hostile  gods: 
The  gods  of  the  Persians  would  be  hostile  to  the  Greeks.  It  is  most 
probable  that  their  refers  to  the  Persians.  —  32  flambeau  :  torch. 

1428  vocal  frame:  the  organ. — 9  store:  musical  knowledge  (perhaps). 

143  3  vermeil :  vermilion. 

144  26  Gilds :  Its  object  is  shades,  1.  24,  and  its  subject  is  hope,  1.  23. 

—  27  Still:    always. — 32   Chastised:    when,    or   because,    chastised. — 
33  blended  :  when  blended. 

145  8  opening  :  Is  this  a  participle  or  an  adjective  ?  —  9  [We  have  no 
poet  more  marked  by  rapture,  by  the  ecstasy  which  Plato  held  the  note 
of  genuine  inspiration,  than  Collins.    Yet  but  twice  or  thrice  do  his 
lyrics  reach  that  simplicity,  that  sinceram  sermonis  Attici  gratiam\  true 
grace  of  Attic  utterance  [to  which  this  ode  testifies  his  enthusiastic 
devotion.    His    style,  as  his  friend    Dr.  Johnson   truly  remarks,  was 
obscure  ;  his  diction  often  harsh  and  unskillfully  labored ;  he  struggles 
nobly  against  the  narrow,  artificial  manner  of  his  age,  but  his  too  scanty 
years  did  not  allow  him  to  reach  perfect  mastery.]  — 11  numbers  :  verses. 
— 17  gauds :  ornaments.  — 18  decent :  comely.  —  22  [Hybla :  near  Syra- 
cuse.] A  Sicilian  mountain  noted  for  its  honey.  —  24  [her  whose  .  .  .  woe  : 
the  nightingale,  "for  which  Sophocles  seems  to  have   entertained  a 


NOTES  421 

peculiar  fondness";  Collins  here  refers  to  the  famous  chorus  in  the 
"  CEdipus  at  Colonus."]  —  26  sweetly:  Does  this  limit  soothed  or  sad? 
Do  you  like  such  a  number  of  sibilants  in  a  line  ?  If  sweetly  be  con- 
strued with  sad,  is  the  cadence  of  the  line  satisfactory  ?  —  26  sad  Electra's 
poet :  Sophocles,  not  Euripides,  to  whom  Milton  had  applied  the  phrase  ; 
see  above,  p.  81,  1.  17.  Both  these  Greek  dramatists  wrote  tragedies 
about  Electra.  —  27  [Cephisus :  the  stream  encircling  Athens  on  the 
north  and  west,  passing  Colonus.] 

146  1  enamell'd :  gay  with  flowers.  — 13  [stay'd  to  sing :  stayed  her 
song  when  Imperial  tyranny  was  established  at  Rome.]  This  interpre- 
tation will  not  hold.  The  meaning  is  that  Simplicity,  that  is,  poetic 
sincerity  and  singleness  of  aim  and  treatment,  waited  to  sing  to  only 
one  throne,  that  of  Augustus.  This  age  of  Augustus,  when  Vergil,  Hor- 
ace, and  Ovid  flourished,  was  the  golden  age  of  Latin  poetry.  — 15  her  : 
Rome's.  This  line  is  a  very  poor  one.  — 16  [Stanza  7  refers  to  the  Italian 
amorist  poetry  of  the  Renaissance.  In  Collins's  day  Dante  was  almost 
unknown  in  England.]  —  27  [meeting  soul :  which  moves  sympatheti- 
cally towards  Simplicity  as  she  comes  to  inspire  the  poet.]  Compare 
above,  p.  128,  1.  i.  —  28  [Of  these  :  taste  and  genius.] 

1483  ever:  always.  — 15  blow:  bloom. — 17  Selima  belonged  to  Gray's 
friend  Horace  Walpole.  The  poem  was  written  in  1747.  —  28  Tyrian 
hue :  A  famous  purple  was  made  at  Tyre  from  a  sort  of  shellfish. 

149  18  Dolphin  :  According  to  legend  the  Greek  poet  Arion  was  saved 
from  drowning  by  dolphins.  — 18  Nereid:   sea  nymph.  —  26  Compare 
"Merchant  of  Venice,"  Act  II,  scene  vii,  65.  —  28  happy  pair:  Daniel 
Pulteney  and  his  wife.    Pulteney  was  a  politician  of  some  standing  and 
opposed  to   Sir  Robert  Walpole.    Philips  addressed  another  ode  to 
Margaret  Pulteney,  but  neither  girl  lived  to  fulfill  the  happy  auguries 
of  the  poet. 

150  14  Moduling  :  tuning. 

151  11  flame :    of   indignation.  — 13  rural   reign:    of   agriculture,    as 
opposed  to  commerce,  in  the  next  line.  — 17  still :  ever.  —  23  [The  Bard  : 
In  1757,  when  this  splendid  ode  was  completed,]  and  published  along 
with  "  The  Progress  of  Poesy  "  from  Horace  Walpole's  private  press 
[so  very  little  had  been  printed,  whether  in  Wales  or  in  England,  in 
regard  to  Welsh  poetry,  that  it  is  hard  to  discover  whence  Gray  drew 
his  Cymric  allusions.    The  fabled  massacre  of  the  bards  (shown  to  be 
wholly  groundless  in  Stephens's  "  Literature  of  the  Kymry  ")  appears 
first  in  the  family  history  of  Sir  John  Wynn  of  Gwydir  (cir.  1600),  not 
published  till  1773 ;  but  the  story  seems  to  have  passed  in  manuscript 
to  Carte's  History,  whence  it  may  have  been  taken  by  Gray.    The  ref- 
erences to  high-born  Hoel  and  soft  Llewellyn  ;  to  Cadwallo  and  Urien ; 
may,  similarly,  have  been   derived  from  the  "  Specimens "  of  early 
Welsh  poetry,  by  the  Rev.  E.  Evans :  —  as,  although  not  published  till 


422  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

1764,  the  manuscript,  we  learn  from  a  letter  to  Dr.  Wharton,  was  in. 
Gray's  hands  by  July,  1760,  and  may  have  reached  him  by  1757.  It  is, 
however,  doubtful  whether  Gray  (of  whose  acquaintance  with  Welsh 
we  have  no  evidence)  must  not  have  been  also  aided  by  some  Welsh 
scholar.  He  is  one  of  the  poets  least  likely  to  scatter  epithets  at 
random :  "  soft "  or  gentle  is  the  epithet  emphatically  and  specially  given 
to  Llewellyn  in  contemporary  Welsh  poetry,  and  is  hence  here  used 
with  particular  propriety.  Yet,  without  such  assistance  as  we  have  sug- 
gested, Gray  could  hardly  have  selected  the  epithet,  although  applied 
to  the  King  among  a  crowd  of  others,  in  Llygad  Gwr's  Ode,  printed  by 
Evans.  —  After  lamenting  his  comrades  (st.  2,  3)  the  Bard  prophesies 
the  fate  of  Edward  II,  and  the  conquests  of  Edward  III  (4);  his  death 
and  that  of  the  Black  Prince  (5) ;  of  Richard  II,  with  the  wars  of  York 
and  Lancaster,  the  murder  of  Henry  VI  (the  meek  usurper},  and  of 
Edward  V  and  his  brother  (6).  He  turns  to  the  glory  and  prosperity 
following  the  accession  of  the  Tudors  (7),  through  Elizabeth's  reign  (8) : 
and  concludes  with  a  vision  of  the  poetry  of  Shakespeare  and  Milton.] 
—  23  ruthless  King :  Edward  I,  who  according  to  a  false  tradition  put 
to  death  all  the  bards  that  fell  into  his  hands  during  the  conquest  of 
Wales.  Gray's  Odes  were  at  first  regarded  as  obscure,  but  if  we  under- 
stand that  this  is  in  the  main  a  dramatic  monologue  by  one  of  the  bards, 
much  of  the  obscurity  disappears.  —  30  Cambria's :  of  Wales. 

152  3  Snowdon  :  the  name  given  to  an  extensive  mountainous  tract  in 
Wales.  The  time  is  1283  A.D.  —  5  [Glo'ster :  Gilbert  de  Clare,  son-in- 
law  to  Edward.]  —  6  [Mortimer  :  one  of  the  Lords  Marchers  of  Wales.] 
— 12  Gray  refers  to  "Paradise  Lost,"  i,  537.  —  20  [high-born  Hoel,  soft 
Llewellyn  :  the  "  Dissertatio  de  Bardis  "  of  Evans  names  the  first  as  son 
to  the  King  Owain  Gwynedd  ;  Llewellyn,  last  king  of  North  Wales,  was 
murdered  1 282.] — 21  [Cadwallo:  Cadwallon (died 631)  and Urien  Rheged 
(early  kings  of  Gwynedd  and  Cumbria  respectively)  are  mentioned  by 
Evans  as  bards  none  of  whose  poetry  is  extant.]  —  25  [Modred  :  Evans 
supplies  no  data  for  this  name  which  Gray  (it  has  been  supposed)  uses 
for  Merlin  (Myrddin  Wyllt),  held  prophet  as  well  as  poet.]  —  27  [Arvon  : 
the  shores  of  Carnarvonshire  opposite  Anglesey.  Whether  intention- 
ally or  through  ignorance  of  the  real  dates,  Gray  here  seems  to  repre- 
sent the  Bard  as  speaking  of  these  poets,  all  of  earlier  days,  Llewellyn 
excepted,  as  his  own  contemporaries  at  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury. Gray,  whose  penetrating  and  powerful  genius  rendered  him  in 
many  ways  an  initiator  in  advance  of  his  age,  is  probably  the  first  of 
our  poets  who  made  some  acquaintance  with  the  rich  and  admirable 
poetry  in  which  Wales  from  the  sixth  century  has  been  fertile,  —  before 
and  since  his  time  so  barbarously  neglected,  not  in  England  only. 
Hence  it  has  been  thought  worth  while  here  to  enter  into  a  little  detail 
upon  his  Cymric  allusions.] 


NOTES  423 

1532  grisly  :  frightful.  — 5  join  :  pronounced  so  as  to  make  a  perfect 
rime  with  line.  —  7  [The  italicized  lines  mark  where  the  Bard's  song 
is  joined  by  that  of  his  predecessors  departed.]  — 10  characters :  the 
figures  or  letters  in  which  the  doom  is  expressed.  — 13  Berkley's  roof : 
At  this  castle  in  Gloucestershire  Edward  II  was  murdered  in  1327.  The 
edition  of  1768  has  roofs.  — 15  [She-wolf:  Isabel  of  France,  adulterous 
queen  of  Edward  II.]  — 17  who:  Edward  III,  during  whose  reign  the 
English  won  notable  victories  in  France,  — 17  thy  country :  France.  — 
17  hangs:  seems  to  be  transitive,  with  scourge  for  its  object.  — 19,  20 
In  the  edition  of  1768  flight  is  printed  with  a  capital,  but  the  nouns 
sorrow  and  solitude  are  not  so  printed.  Yet  all  are  apparently  personifi- 
cations. —  20  solitude  :  desolation.  —  25  sable  warrior  :  Edward  the  Black 
Prince.  —  30  azure  realm:  the  inflated,  eighteenth-century  way  of  not 
saying  water.  —  30-34  Gray  explained  that  these  lines  refer  to  the  mag- 
nificence of  Richard  IPs  reign.  —  34  his:  the  whirlwind's,  which  in 
the  edition  of  1768  is  printed  with  a  capital. 

1543  he:  Richard  II.  Gray  notes  that  he  was  starved  to  death. — 
7  din  of  battle :  Gray's  note  is,  "  Ruinous  civil  wars  of  York  and  Lan- 
caster."— 11  [Towers  of  Julius:  the  Tower  of  London,  built  in  part, 
according  to  tradition,  by  Julius  Caesar.]  — 12  murder  :  Gray  noted  that 
Henry  VI,  George  Duke  of  Clarence,  Edward  V,  Richard  Duke  of 
York,  etc.  were  believed  to  have  been  secretly  murdered  in  the  Tower. 
— 13  consort's:  Margaret  of  Anjou,  wife  of  Henry  VI.  — 13  father's 
fame:  Henry  V,  the  victor  of  Agincourt  — 14  meek  usurper's :  Henry  VI 
was  mild  and  holy.  He  is  called  a  usurper  because,  in  Gray's  words, 
"The  line  of  Lancaster  had  no  right  of  inheritance  to  the  crown."  — 
16  blushing  foe  :  the  red  rose  of  Lancaster,  which  may  be  considered  as 
twined  with  the  white  rose  of  York  through  the  marriage  of  Edward  IV 
with  Lady  Grey.  One  would  naturally  think  of  Henry  VII's  marriage, 
but  for  the  fact  that  these  lines  precede  those  which  refer  to  Richard  III. 
— 17  [bristled  boar :  the  badge  of  Richard  III]  who  murdered  his  nephews. 

—  23  [Half  of  thy  heart :  Queen  Eleanor  died  soon  after  the  conquest  of 
Wales.] — 25  Here  the  Bard  addresses  the  vanishing  ghosts.  —  33  [Arthur: 
Henry  VII  named  his  eldest  son  thus,  in  deference  to  native  feeling 
and  story.]  —  Gray's  note  is  as  follows  :  "  It  was  the  common  belief  of 
the  Welsh  nation,  that  King  Arthur  was  still  alive  in  Fairy  Land,  and 
should  return  again  to  reign  over  Britain."  —  34  All  hail:  Gray's  note, 

—  "  Both  Merlin  and  Taliessin  had  prophesied  that  the  Welsh  should 
regain  their  sovereignty  over  this  island ;  which  seemed  to  be  accom- 
plished in  the  house  of  Tudor." 

1552  Sublime:  on  high.  —  2  they:  Henry  VII  and  Henry  VIII. 
Gray  hardly  had  in  mind  the  young  Edward  VI.  — 5  midst :  If  the  ref- 
erence is  to  the  preceding  lines,  those  lines  give  a  picture  of  Elizabeth's 
court.  But  the  punctuation  seems  to  make  those  lines  a  group  covering 


424  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

the  reigns  before  Elizabeth's.  If  this  be  the  case,  midst  probably  refers 
to  the  entire  procession  of  monarchs.  —  9,  10  The  glorious  poetry  of 
Elizabeth's  reign  is  recalled.  —  11  Taliessin  :  "  Chief  of  the  Bards,  flour- 
ished in  the  sixth  century.  His  works  are  still  preserved,  and  his 
memory  held  in  high  veneration,  among  his  countrymen"  (Gray). — 
15  adorn :  The  subjects  are  war,  love,  and  truth.  The  style  of  the  passage 
leaves  much  to  be  desired.  — 16  Gray's  note  shows  that  the  reference 
is  to  the  poetry  of  Spenser.  He  quotes  from  the  proem  to  the  "  Faerie 
Queene  "  the  line  "  Fierce  wars  and  faithful  loves  shall  moralize  my 
song."  The  fact  that  Spenser  is  here  alluded  to  suggests  that  the  pre- 
ceding lines  may  refer  specifically  to  lyric  poetry.  It  seems  scarcely 
well,  however,  to  indulge  in  such  minute  exegesis,  and,  if  we  do,  we 
must  remember  that  the  best  Elizabethan  lyric  poetry  did  not  precede 
the  poetry  of  Spenser.  — 18  The  allusion,  as  Gray  notes,  is  to  Shake- 
speare, and  the  word  buskin* d  shows  that  it  is  his  tragedies  that  are 
meant. — 21  Gray's  note,  "  Milton,"  is  scarcely  needed.  —  23  Gray  notes, 
"The  succession  of  poets  after  Milton's  time." — 25  man:  Edward  I, 
—  25  sanguine :  blood-red.  The  allusion  is  to  the  bards  the  king  has 
slain.  —  27  repairs  :  renews.  Compare  "  Lycidas  "  above,  p.  78,  1.  15. 

156  1  Collins  states  that  this  ode,  which  is  ranked  as  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  short  poems  in  the  language,  was  written  in  the  beginning  of 
the  year  1746.    From  this  fact  it  has  been  argued  that  the  ode  refers 
specially  to  the  soldiers  who  fell  in  the  battle  of  Falkirk,  won  by  the 
Young  Pretender.  It  may  also  refer  to  the  battles  of  Preston  Pans  and 
Fontenoy,  lost  in  1745  (perhaps  more  probably  to  the  latter).  — 17  [The 
Highlanders  called  the  battle  of  Culloden,  Drumossie.]    In  this  battle, 
April  1 6,  1756,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  defeated  the  Young  Pre- 
tender and  finally  put  down  the  rising  of  1745.    Culloden  is  a  mooi 
not  far  from  Inverness.  —  25  lord:   the  Duke  of  Cumberland.    Com- 
pare Campbell's  "  Lochiel  "  :    "  Proud  Cumberland  prances  insulting 
the  slain." 

157  1  Flodden  Field,  the  battle  in  Northumberland  in  which  the  Earl 
of  Surrey  and  the  English  defeated  King  James  IV  of  Scotland,  in 
September,  1513.  —  1  [lilting:   singing   blithely.]  —  3   [loaning:   broad 
lane.]  —  4  wedeaway:  weeded  out.  —  5  [bughts  :  pens.]  —  5  [scorning: 
rallying.]  —  6  [dowie  :  dreary.]  —  7  [daffin',  gabbin' :  joking  and  chatter- 
ing.] —  s  [leglin  :  milk  pail.]  —  9  [shearing :  reaping.]  — 10  [Bandsters  : 
sheaf   binders.]  —  10    [lyart :    grizzled.]  — 10    [runkled  :    wrinkled.]  — 
11  [fleeching  :   coaxing.]  — 13  [gloaming :  twilight.]  — 14  [bogle  :  ghost.] 
— 17  [Dool :  sorrow.]  —  25  Yarrow :  a  stream  in  Selkirkshire  famous  in 
Scotch  poetry.    Compare  Wordsworth's  poems  in  the  Fourth  Book, 
pp.  320,  322.  —  25  braes:  banks,  hillsides.  —  25  bonny:  fair. 

158  21  water  wraith  :  apparition  of  the  drowned  man  rising  from  the 
water.  —  28  thorough  :  through. 


NOTES  425 

159  10  marrow  :  husband,  companion.  — 13  [The  editor  has  found  no 
authoritative  text  of  this  poem,  to  his  mind  superior  to  any  other  of  its 
class  in  melody  and  pathos.  Part  is  probably  not  later  than  the  seven- 
teenth century ;  in  other  stanzas  a  more  modern  hand,  much  resembling 
Scott's,  is  traceable.  Logan's  poem  (163)  exhibits  a  knowledge  rather 
of  the  old  legend  than  of  the  old  verses.]  — 19  [hecht :  promised  (the 
obsolete  hight}.~\  —  26  [mavis:  thrush.]  —  27  [ilka:  every.] 

1601  [lav'rock:  lark.]  —  4  [haughs  :  valley-meadows.] — 16  [twined: 
parted  from.]  — 16  [marrow  :  mate.]  —  22  braid  and  narrow  :  widely  and 
carefully,  minutely.  —  23  [Syne:  then.]  —  25  [The  Royal  George,  of  108 
guns,  whilst  undergoing  a  partial  careening  at  Spithead,  was  overset 
about  10  A.M.,  August  29,  1782.  The  total  loss  was  believed  to  be  nearly 
1000  souls.  This  little  poem  might  be  called  one  of  our  trial  pieces,  in 
regard  to  taste.  The  reader  who  feels  the  vigor  of  description  and  the 
force  of  pathos  underlying  Cowper's  bare  and  truly  Greek  simplicity  of 
phrase,  may  assure  himself  se  valde  profecisse  in  poetry.]  The  Latin 
means  "  that  he  has  made  great  progress."  —  28  Fast  by :  hard  by, 
near. 

161  8  Richard  Kempenfelt,  1718-1782,  a  rear  admiral  who  had  seen 
considerable  service,  particularly  in  the  East  Indies. 

162  1  Downs :  the  sea  off  the  eastern  coast  of  Kent.  — 15  chance : 
probably  it  is  omitted. 

163  19  [A  little  masterpiece  in  a  very  difficult  style  :  Catullus  himself 
could  hardly  have  bettered  it.    In  grace,  tenderness,  simplicity,  and 
humor,  it  is  worthy  of  the  Ancients ;  and  even  more  so,  from  the  com- 
pleteness and  unity  of  the  picture  presented.]  —  27  cabbage  nets:  nets 
in  which  cabbages  were  boiled.  —  29  laces :  either  shoe  laces,  or  laces 
for  stays. 

16514  tassie:  goblet.  — 17  Leith  :  the  port  of  Edinburgh.  — 19  Ber- 
wick-law :  "  a  conspicuous  hill  near  the  shore  by  North  Berwick,  and  a 
landmark  for  sailors"  (J.  G.  Dow). 

16612  trow:  believe.  — 14  dight:  attire.  —  23  skaith:  injury.  —  25  ride 
the  ring :  as  in  the  modern  tournament. 

168  1  [Perhaps  no  writer  who  has  given  such  strong  proofs  of  the 
poetic  nature  has  left  less  satisfactory  poetry  than  Thomson.    Yet  this 
song,  with  "  Rule  Britannia "  and  a  few  others,  must  make  us  regret 
that  he   did  not  more   seriously  apply  himself  to  lyrical  writing.]  — 
3  mutual :  kindred,   sharing  our  feelings,   returning   our   affection.  — 
14  absolve  thy :  excuse  thee  from.  —  18  Conveys  :  has  it  sent.  —  18  in  a 
borrow'd  name :  This  seems  ambiguous.    The  treasure  might  be  sent  as 
something  less  valuable,  or  to  or  by  some  one  not  likely  to  have  his 
goods  confiscated.  — 19  measure:  verses. — ^23  noted:  made  known. 

169  5  [With  what  insight  and  tenderness,  yet  in  how  few  words,  has 
this  painter  poet  here  himself  told  Love's  Secret  /]  — 14  traveler :  This 


426  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

seems  to  be  a  symbol  for  a  recognition  of  the  fact  that  she  was  loved, 
or  else  for  the  sudden  springing  up  of  love  in  her  own  heart.  — 17  This 
little  poem  is  from  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  Chapter  XXIV. 

170  1  Burns  wrote  three  versions  of  this   song.    Mr.  Palgrave  has 
selected  the  most  beautiful,   but  not  the  most  popular,  and  he  has 
slightly  changed  his  version.    See  G.  A.  Aitken's  edition  of  Burns  in 
the  "  New  Aldine  Poets,"  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  19-27.  —21  This  ode  was  labored 
on  for  several  years,  was  finished  in  1754,  and  was  first  published  in 
1757.  —  21  [TEolian  lyre  :  the  Greeks  ascribed  the  origin  of  their  lyrical 
poetry  to  the  colonies  of  ALolis  in  Asia  Minor.]    Gray,  as  his  note  and 
his  poem  show,  was  thinking  of  the  poetry  of  Pindar,  of  Thebes  in 
Bceotia,  rather  than  of  the  ^olian  lyric  poets,  Sappho  and  Alcaeus. 
His  phrase  has   nothing  to   do  with  the  ^Eolian  harp.  —  23  Helicon's 
harmonious  springs  :  Aganippe  and  Hippocrene,  fountains  sacred  to  the 
Muses,  which  were  situated  in  the  mountain  range  of  Helicon  in  Bceotia 

—  25  blow  :  bloom. 

171  3  Ceres*  golden  reign :  the  realm  of  the  goddess  of  agriculture.  — 
7-18  "  Power  of  harmony  to  calm  the  turbulent  sallies  of  the  soul.    The 
thoughts  are  borrowed  from  the  first  Pythian  of  Pindar"  (Gray). — 

—  9  shell:  lyre  (which  was  supposed  to  have  been  invented  by  Mer- 
cury, who  stretched  strings  across  a   tortoise   shell).  — 11  [Thracia's 
hills :    supposed  a  favorite  resort  of  Mars.]  — 15  [feather'd  king :    the 
eagle  of  Jupiter,  admirably  described  by  Pindar  in  a  passage  here  imi- 
tated by  Gray.] —  20  Tempered:  attuned.  —  21  [Idalia  :  in  Cyprus,  where 
Cytherea   (Venus)   was   especially  worshiped.]  —  24  antic :    quaint,  but 
with  no  unpleasant  suggestion.  —  32  sublime  :  lifted  high.  —  34-35  Gray's 
note  shows  that  he  was  imitating  a  verse  of  the  Greek  tragic  poet, 
Phrynichus. 

172 1-12  "  To  compensate  the  real  and  imaginary  ills  of  life,  the 
Muse  was  given  to  mankind  by  the  same  Providence  that  sends  the 
day  by  its  cheerful  presence  to  dispel  the  gloom  and  terror  of 
the  night"  (Gray).  —  5  fond:  foolish,  unfounded.  — 10  gives:  allows. 
— 11,  12  Gray  quotes :  "  Or  seen  the  morning's  well-appointed  star 
Come  marching  up  the  eastern  hills  afar"  (Cowley).  — 12  [Hyperion: 
the  sun.]  —  13  Gray's  note  runs :  "  Extensive  influence  of  poetic  Genius 
over  the  remotest  and  most  uncivilized  nations :  its  connection  with 
liberty,  and  the  virtues  that  naturally  attend  on  it  (see  the  Erse,  Nor- 
wegian, and  Welsh  fragments,  the  Lapland  and  American  songs).*' 
Gray  also  showed  that  in  1.13  he  was  utilizing  phrases  found  in  Vergil 
and  Petrarch.  — 19  repeat :  recite  the  names  and  qualities  of.  —  22  track: 
the  object  of  pursue,  which  has  for  subjects  Glory,  Shame,  etc. — 
25  [The  following  stanzas  allude  to  the  poets  of  the  islands  and  main- 
land of  Greece,  to  those  of  Rome  and  of  England.]  For  the  proper 
names,  see  a  classical  dictionary.  —  28  amber  :  yellow. 


NOTES  427 

173  5  Latium :  the  part  of  ancient  Italy  in  which  Rome  was  situated. 

—  7  thesun:  of  more  southern  lands,  like  Greece  and  Italy. — 8  Nature's 
Darling :  Shakespeare  is  represented  as  owing  more  to  natural  endow- 
ment and  to  observation  than  to  study.  — 14  year  :  season.  — 19  Nor : 
Notice  that  Gray  was  unwilling  to  make  Milton  second  even  to  Shake- 
speare.—  20  Ecstasy:  inspired  imagination. — 23  Gray  referred  to  Eze- 
kiel  i,  20,  26,  28. — 28  bear:  The  subject  is -coursers  and  the  object  is 
car.    Does  Gray  seem  always  happy  in  his  style  in  passages  marked  by 
similar  grammatical  characteristics  ? — 30  "  Meant  to  express  the  stately 
march  and  sounding  energy  of  Dryden's  rimes"  (Gray).    Pope  had 
already  written  of  Dryden's  "  long  majestic  march,  and  energy  divine." 

—  31  his :  Gray  seems  to  be  speaking  of  Dryden  in  his  capacity  of 
lyric  poet,  for  in  his  note  to  1.  I,  p.  174,  he  writes:  "We  have  had  in 
our  language  no  other  odes  of  the  sublime  kind,  than  that  of  Dryden 
on  St.  Cecilia's  Day." 

174  2  daring    spirit :    Gray   himself.  —  5  [Theban   eagle  :    Pindar.]  — 
10  orient :  bright.  — 12  vulgar  fate :  the  fate  that  may  be  expected  by 
the  crowd  of  ordinary  men.  — 16  shell:  see  above,  note  to  1.  9,  p.  171. 
— 19  Possessed :  inspired  by  a  spirit.  —  24  myrtles  :  associated  with  song 
by  the  Greeks,  who  held  boughs  of  myrtle  when  they  sang  at  banquets. 

175 1  Professor  Bronson  seems  to  be  right  in  holding  that  Fear  sig- 
nifies, not  cowardice,  but  imaginative  and  sublime  apprehension  of  the 
terrible.  — 10  sounds:  in  apposition  with  measiires.  —  27  war-denouncing: 
threatening  war. 

176  25  that :  so  that.  — 26  Faun  :  follower  of  the  Roman  god  Faunus. 
— 26  Dryad :  forest  nymph. — 27  Sisters :  followers  of  Diana.  —  27  [chaste- 
eyed  Queen  :  Diana.]  —  28  Satyrs  :  followers  of  Pan.  —  28  Sylvan  Boys  : 
followers  of  the  forest  god  of  the  Romans,  Sylvanus. 

177  4  viol :  a  medieval  stringed  instrument,  precursor  of  the  violin. 

—  7  Tempe's  vale  :  situated  in  Thessaly  and  famous  in  poetry.  — 11  fan- 
tastic :  full  of  the  freedom  of  fancy.  — 16  sphere-descended :   Compare 
the  phrase  "music  of  the  spheres,"  and  give  an  explanation  of  it. — 
20-21  Collins  wrote  an  ode,  never  printed  and  undiscovered,  on  the 
"  Music  of  the  Grecian  Theater."    Perhaps  it  is  to  this  music  that  ref- 
erence is  here  made.  —  22  mimic:   Compare  Aristotle's  view  as  to  the 
origin  of  all  art.  —  27  Warm,  energic :  full  of  passion  and  energy.  — 
29  page  :    that   of   history.  —  31  reed  :    pipe.  —  32  rage  :    inspiration.  — 
35  The  reference  is  to  the  varied  musical  powers  of  the  organ. 

178  5  [From  that  wild  rhapsody  of  mingled  grandeur,  tenderness,  and 
obscurity,  that w  medley  between  inspiration  and  possession,"  which  poor 
Smart  is  believed  to  have  written  whilst  in  confinement  for  madness.]  — 
9  period:  this  probably  means  cessation  of  things  or  else  is  equivalent  to 
"  epoch,"  according  as  the  three  verbs  in  the  next  line  form  predicates 
in  inverse  or  in  direct  order  to  the  three  nouns  in  this  line. 


428  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

179  24  [the  dreadful  light :  of  life  and  experience.]  —  25  Hours  :  god- 
desses of  the  seasons.  —  28  purple  year:  "bright  season"  (Fowler). 

1801  [Attic  warbler :  the  nightingale.]  — 23  liquid:  clear.— 25  trim: 
attire. 

181  4  kind :  race   of  insects.  — 16  Ouse :  There  are  three  rivers  of 
this  name  in  England.    This  is  the  Great  Ouse,  and  two  of  Cowper's 
homes,  at  Huntingdon  and  at  Olney,  were  in  its  vicinity. 

182  1-4  This  is  the  form  Cowper  finally  gave  the  last  stanza.    The 
original  form,  which  is  better  and  is  usually  given,  runs : 

'  Tis  a  sight  to  engage  me,  if  anything  can, 
To  muse  on  the  perishing  pleasures  of  man ; 
Though  his  life  be  a  dream,  his  enjoyments,  I  see, 
Have  a  being  less  durable  even  than  he. 

—  5  [sleekit :  sleek.]  —  8  [bickering  brattle  :  flittering  flight.]  —  9  [laith : 
loath.]  — 10  [pattle:  plow  staff.]  — 17  [whiles:  at  times.]  —  19  [daimen- 
icker:  a  corn  ear  now  and  then.]  — 19  [thrave :  shock.]  —  21  [lave: 
rest.]  —  24  silly  wa's  :  weak  walls.  —  25  big  :  build.  —  26  [foggage  :  after- 
grass.] —  28  [snell :  biting.] 

1835  colter:  plow  share.  — 10  [But:  without.] — 10  [hald :  dwelling 
place.]  — 11  [thole  :  bear.]  — 12  [cranreuch  :  hoarfrost.]  — 13  [thy  lane  : 
alone.]  — 16  [a-gley  :  off  the  right  line,  awry.] 

18413  oaten  stop:  shepherd's  pipe. — 14  This  line  originally  stood 
and  is  often  printed,  "  May  hope,  chaste  Eve,  to  soothe  thy  modest  ear." 
— 19  brede  :  braid.  —  20  wavy  bed  :  the  sun  is  sinking  into  the  sea. 

185  5  folding-star :  the  star  that  indicates  the  time  for  the  cattle  to 
return  to  the  fold.  —  7  Hours  :  Are  these  the  Hours  of  Gray's  "  Ode  on 
the  Spring."    See  above,  p.  179,  1.  25.  —  25  wont:  is  accustomed. 

186  2  Fancy :  This  probably  includes  both  the  Imagination  and  the 
Fancy,  as  these  terms  are  generally  used.  —  5  parting :  .departing.  — 
10  air:  object  of  holds. — 20  rude:  uneducated. 

187  5  toil :   made    a  true   rime  with  smile.  — 11  Awaits :  Are  those 
editors  necessarily  correct  who  note  that  hour  is  the  subject,  not  the 
object,    of   this   verb  ?    Sometimes   the   text   is   misprinted   Await.  — 
15   fretted :    For   this   technical   word   see    some   good   dictionary.  — 
17  storied:   telling  the  life  story  in  an  inscription. — 19  provoke:   call 
forth.  —  27  rage  :  enthusiasm. 

188  1  Hampden :  John  Hampden,  who  refused  to  pay  the  ship  money 
exacted  during  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  — 12  shut :  an  infinitive  depend- 
ent on  forbade.    Their  lot  is  the  subject  of  all  the  finite  verbs  in  this 
stanza.    The  infinitives  in  the  next  stanza  still  depend  on  forbade.  — 
13,  14  Whose  are  the  pangs  and  blushes  ?  — 17  madding  :  carried  away 
by  enthusiasm.  — 17,  18  Explain   the   syntax   of   these   lines.  — 19  se- 
quester'd  :  secluded,  retired.  —  21-24  Explain  the  syntax  of  this  stanza. 


NOTES  429 

—  28  teach  :  Why  is  this  verb  in  the  plural  ?  —  28  to  die  :  how  to  die.  — 
29  to  dumb  forgetfulness  a  prey :    this   phrase  describes  the  result  of 
resigning    This  pleasing  anxious  being.    The   syntax  is  ambiguous. — 
31  precincts  :  probably  used  in  the  sense  of  boundaries. 

1897  chance:  compare  above,  p.  162,  1.  15.  —  27  The  parenthesis 
seems  to  indicate  that  the  old  swain  cannot  read.  —  28  thorn :  haw- 
thorn tree.  —  32  Perhaps  Gray  meant  not  much  more  than  we  should 
mean  by  the  expression  "  a  subdued  and  pensive  man." 

19013  [stoure:  dust  storm.]  — 18  ha' :  hall.  —  21  [braw:  smart.] 

191  17  [scaith :  hurt.]  — 18  wad  belang  thee :  would,  or  rather,  could 
belong  to  thee.  —  21  aboon  :  above.  —  21  [tent :  guard.]  —  22  [steer  : 
molest.] 

19218  "  Coilsfield  House  (in  Ayrshire)  is  meant,  occupied  in  1786 
by  a  family  of  the  name  of  Montgomery"  (Robertson).  "Highland 
Mary "  was  a  domestic  servant  named  Mary  Campbell,  with  whom 
Burns  fell  deeply  in  love.  She  died  in  the  autumn  of  the  same  year, 
1786.  —  20  [drumlie:  muddy.]  — 25  [birk  :  birch.] 

193  21  [There  can  hardly  exist  a  poem  more  truly  tragic  in  the  high- 
est sense  than  this,  nor,  perhaps,  Sappho  excepted,  has  any  poetess 
equaled  it.]  —  21  kye  :  cattle. 

19417  Jamie's  wraith:  apparition  of  Jamie.  — 19  [greet:  cry.]  — 
24  [daurna  :  dare  not.]  —  29  Yule  :  Christmas.  —  29  [fou  :  merry  with 
drink.] 

195  1  [coost :    carried.]  —  2   [unco   skeigh  :    very   proud.]  —  3    [Gart : 
forced.]  —  3  [abeigh  :  aside.]  —  5  fleech'd  :  coaxed,  besought.  —  6  [Ailsa 
Craig :  a  rock  in  the  Firth  of  Clyde.]  —  8  [Grat  his  een  bleer't :  cried 
till  his  eyes  were  bleared.]  —  9  [lowpin  :  leaping.]  —  9  [linn:  waterfall.] 
— 10  tide :  a  flux  and  reflux  like  the  tides  of  the  ocean.  — 11  [sair : 
sore.]  —  23  [smoor'd  :    smothered.]  —  24  [crouse  and  canty:  blithe  and 
gay.]  —  26  [Burns  justly  named  this  "  one  of  the  most  beautiful  songs 
in  the  Scots  or  any  other  language."  One  stanza,  interpolated  by  Beattie, 
is  here  omitted ;  it  contains  two  good  lines,  but  is  out  of  harmony  with 
the  original  poem.] 

196  7    [bigonet :    little    cap,  —  probably    altered    from   beguinettel\  — 
8  bishop's  satin  :  satin  of  the  quality  used  in  a  bishop's  gown.   Compare 
the  phrase  "bishop's  lawn."    Compare  also  the  following  passage  from 
"  An  Epistle  to  the  Terrible  Priests  "  (one  of  the  Marprelate  tracts),  1 588, 
ed.  Peterham,  p.  21  :    "And  yet  I  hope  he  may  weare  as  brave  a  sattin 
gowne  as  my  Lord  of  Winchester  weareth,  and  be  as  cholericke  as  he." 

—  9  baillie's  :  bailiff's.  — 14  leal :    loyal.  — 16  muckle  :   big.  — 19  slaes  : 
sloes. — 25  [thraw:  twist.] — 28  Gar:  make. — 28  braw:  fine. — 32  [caller: 
fresh.] 

197  1  will :    shall.  —  4   greet :    weep.  —  7   gin  :    if.  —  8  lave  :    rest.  — 
17  [Burns  himself,  despite  two  attempts,  failed  to  improve  this  little 


430  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

absolute  masterpiece  of  music,  tenderness,  and  simplicity:  this  "  Romance 
of  a  life  "  in  eight  lines.]  But  the  two  stanzas  seem  to  be  the  two  best 
stanzas  in  Burns's  "  How  long  and  dreary  is  the  night"  (Fowler).  See 
Aitken's  edition  of  Burns,  II,  187.  The  text  of  the  Oxford  complete 
edition  (p.  360)  varies  somewhat.  —  20  [eerie  :  strictly,  scared  :  uneasy.] 
—  23  glinted  :  sped  swiftly.  —  25  [airts  :  quarters.] 

198  1  [row  :  roll.]  — 10  [shaw  :  small  wood  in  a  hollow,  spinney.]  — 
13  [The  last  two  stanzas  are  not  by  Burns.]  They  are  by  John  Hamil- 
ton, a  music  dealer  of  Edinburgh.  — 13  westlin :  westland,  western.— 
21  [knowes:  knolls.]  —  29  [jo:  sweetheart.]  —  32  [brent:  smooth,]  high. 

1993  [pow:  head.]— 7  canty:  delightful.  — 9  maun:  must.  — 16  [leal: 
faithful.] 

200  5  [fain  :  happy.]  —  9  Science  :  all  knowledge,  not  merely  natural 
science.  — 10  [Henry  VI  founded  Eton.]  —  19  careless:  probably  used 
in  the  sense  of  "free  from  care."  —  29  margent :  margin. 

201  7  They  were  preparing  for  coming  classes.  — 19  buxom :  vigor- 
ous. —  21  cheer :   Does  this  necessarily  refer  to  the  expression  of  the 
countenance  ? 

202  22  grisly  :  frightful.  —  23  painful  family :  pain-causing  attendants. 
2037  [Written  in  1773,  toward  the  beginning  of  Cowper's  second 

attack  of  melancholy  madness,  —  a  time  when  he  altogether  gave  up 
prayer,  saying,  ft  For  him  to  implore  mercy  would  only  anger  God  the 
more."  Yet  had  he  given  it  up  when  sane,  it  would  have  been  "  major 
insania."] 

204  1  Compare  with  this  noble  poem  Wordsworth's  "  Ode  to  Duty," 
in  the  Fourth  Book,  p.  258.  — 11  birth:  child. 

205  3  Gorgon  :  see  a  classical  dictionary.  —  4  band  :  of  the  Furies.  — 
13  extinct :   though   practically  extinct.  — 15  Exact :   Does   this   mean 
exactly,  or  is  it  a  verb  in  the  imperative? — 17  Alexander  Selkirk  was 
a  sailor  who  after  a  quarrel  with  his  captain  was  put  ashore  on  the  un- 
inhabited island  of  Juan  Fernandez,  where  he  remained  five  years  (1704- 
1709)  before  he  was  rescued.    His  adventures  suggested  to  Defoe  the 
writing  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe." 

206  8  At  this  point  a  stanza  is  omitted. 

207  1  [The  editor  would  venture  to  class  in  the  very  first  rank  this 
sonnet,  which,  with  (204), 'records  Cowper's  gratitude  to  the  lady  whose 
affectionate  care  for  many  years  gave  what  sweetness  he  could  enjoy 
to  a  life  radically  wretched.    Petrarch's  sonnets  have  a  more  ethereal 
grace  and  a  more  perfect  finish  ;  Shakespeare's  more  passion ;   Milton's 
stand  supreme   in  stateliness ;   Wordsworth's  in  depth  and  delicacy. 
But  Cowper's  unite  with  an  exquisiteness  in  the  turn  of  thought  which 
the  ancients  would  have  called  Irony,  an  intensity  of  pathetic  tender- 
ness peculiar  to  his  loving  and  ingenuous  nature.    There  is  much  man- 
nerism, much  that  is  unimportant  or  of  now  exhausted  interest  in  his 


NOTES  431 

poems;  but  where  he  is  great,  it  is  with  that  elementary  greatness 
which  rests  on  the  most  universal  human  feelings.  Cowper  is  our 
highest  master  in  simple  pathos.]  —  9  Book :  compare  Revelation 
xx,  12. 

209  9  [Cowper's  last  original  poem,  founded  upon  a  story  told  in 
Anson's  "Voyages."    It  was  written  March,   1799;    he   died  in  next 
year's  April.]  — 16  he :  George   Lord  Anson,  who  sailed  around  the 
world,   1740-1744.  —  20  Nor  him  beheld:    nor  did  he   behold   him. — 
26  despair  of  life :  What  is  the  exact  meaning  of  this  phrase  as  used 
here  ? 

210  13  still :  Notice  the  position  of  this  adverb. 

211  11  [Very  little  except  his  name  appears  recoverable  with  regard 
to  the  author  of  this  truly  noble  poem,  which  appeared  in  the  "  Scrip- 
scrapologia,  or  Collins'  Doggerel  Dish  of  All  Sorts,"  with  three  or  four 
other  pieces  of  merit,  Birmingham,  1804.]  — 15  pad-pony:   road  pony, 
one  trained  to  pace  the  roads  easily. — 25  Nabob  :  any  Englishman  who 
had  sought  his  fortune  in  India  and  returned  home. 

212  8  thread :    of  life.    Compare  the  thread  spun  by  the  Fates.  — 
12  [Everlasting :  used  with  side  allusion  to  a  cloth  so  named  at  the 
time  when  Collins  wrote.] 

214  1  [This  beautiful  lyric,  printed  in  1783,  seems  to  anticipate  in  its 
imaginative  music  that  return  to  our  great  early  age  of  song,  which  in 
Blake's  own  lifetime  was  to  prove,  —  how  gloriously!  that  the  English 
Muses  had  resumed  their  "ancient  melody":  Keats,  Shelley,  Byron, 
—  he  overlived  them  all.]  —  1  Ida's :  probablv  the  famous  mountain  in 
the  Troad.  —  24  parle  :  speech. 

2153  tented:  covered,  as  with  tents,  by  the  flowers.  —  8  tranced:  It 
would  be  pleasant  to  think  that  Keats  thought  of  the  nightingale  as 
enchanted  with  its  own  sweet  song,  but  the  use  of  senseless  makes  one 
think  he  may  have  meant  to  emphasize  the  bird's  lack  of  feeling. — 
10  numbers :  verses.  — 18  Never  slumbering  (put  to  sleep)  or  satiated. 

216  1  realms  of  gold  :  of  great  books,  chiefly  of  poetry.  —  6  demesne  : 
sovereign  estate.  — 8  Chapman,  George  (1557-1634),  the  Elizabethan 
dramatist  and  translator.  — 12  [stout  Cortez  :  History  would  here  sug- 
gest Balboa  (A.  T.).  It  may  be  noticed  that  to  find  in  Chapman's  Homer 
the  "  pure  serene  "  of  the  original,  the  reader  must  bring  with  him  the 
imagination  of  the  youthful  poet;  he  must  be  "a  Greek  himself,"  as 
Shelley  finely  said  of  Keats.] 

218  25  sense  :  sensation. 

21923  [The  most  tender  and  true  of  Byron's  smaller  poems.] — • 
25  myrtle  and  ivy :  compare  the  second  line  of  "  Lycidas,"  p.  73. 

220  2  Bathing  in  May  dew  was  supposed  to  produce  beauty.  —  7  dis- 
cover :  reveal,  show.  — 13  [This  poem  exemplifies  the  peculiar  skill 
with  which  Scott  employs  proper  names :  a  rarely  misleading  sign  of 


432  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

true  poetical  genius.]  This  poem  is  an  imitation  of  the  famous  ballad 
of  "The  Nut-brown  Maid."  It  is  from  "  Rokeby,"  III,  xvi,  xvii.  The 
place  names  belong  to  Yorkshire.  — 10  Would:  which  would. 

221  7  read  you  :  guess  who  you  are.  —  19  brand  :  saber.  —  19  mus- 
ketoon  :  short  musket.  —  22  tuck  :  beating.  —  29  mickle  :  much.  — 
30  Would  :  who  would. 

2237  champak:  an  Indian  flower  of  the  magnolia  type.  —  24  Meet: 
Explain  the  use  of  the  plural.  —  28  Had  :  would  have. 

224  7  This  poem  was  inspired  by  Wordsworth's  wife  and  composed 
about  two  years  after  his  marriage. 

22524  thine:  heart  or  devotion? — 26  Dove:  The  locality  is  not  cer- 
tainly identified. 

22716  state:  stateliness.  —  24  secret:  secluded. 

228  15  moonlight :  suggestive  of  the  calm  beauty  of  moonlight. 

229  2  more  sad  and  fair :  perhaps,  once  fairer  than  the  present,  but 
now  sadder  when  viewed  in  the  light  of  memory.    Fowler  suggests  the 
paraphrase,  "  In  days  which,  even  when  fuller  of  pain,  were  dearer  to 
me  than  the  present." — 15  silver  pound  :   The  pound  is  now  a  gold  coin, 
but  its  twenty  shillings  were  originally  equivalent  to  a  pound  of  silver. 
The  pound  Scots  was,  however,  only  a  twelfth  of  the  pound  sterling. 
See  the  Century  Dictionary.  — 17  Lochgyle :  an  arm  of  the  sea  on  the 
west  coast  of  Mull  (Fowler). 

230  1  wight:  man,  fellow,  person. — 4  winsome:  pleasant  and  gracious. 
— 10  water-wraith  :  apparition  ascending  from  the  water. 

231  9  [Simple  as  "  Lucy  Gray  "  seems,  a  mere  narrative  of  what  "  has 
been,  and  may  be  again,"  yet  every  touch  in  the  child's  picture  is 
marked  by  the  deepest  and  purest  ideal  character.    Hence,  pathetic  as 
the  situation  is,  this  is  not  strictly  a  pathetic  poem,  such  as  Wordsworth 
gives  us  in  221,  Lamb  in  264,  and  Scott  in  his  "  Maid  of  Neidpath,"  — 
"  almost  more  pathetic,"  as  Tennyson  once  remarked,  "  than  a  man  has 
the  right  to  be."    And   Lyte's  lovely  stanzas  (224)  suggest,  perhaps, 
the  same  remark.]    One  may  ask  whether  some  criticism  is  not  more 
critical  than  any  criticism  has  a  right  to  be.  —  27  minster  clock:  cathe- 
dral clock.    The  incident  on  which  the  poem  is  founded  occurred  near 
Halifax,  in  Yorkshire. 

232  1,  2  Loosened  a  bundle  of  sticks  and  twigs  with  a  lopping  tool. 
—  6  wanton:  sportive. 

233  3  This  is  almost  as  unadorned  a  line  as  Wordsworth  ever  wrote, 
and  the  entire  poem  is  as  severely  simple  as  poetry  can  well  be.    Yet 
many  capable  readers  —  not  all  readers  —  feel  it  to  be  one  of  the  most 
moving  and  truly  noble  poems  ever  written  by  an  English  poet.    To 
appreciate  it  is  to  make  one's  calling  and  election  as  a  lover  of  poetry 
about  as  sure  as  such  an  unspectacular  consecration  can  be  made. — 
19  loot :  let.  —  24  Langley-dale  :  in  the  county  of  Durham. 


NOTES  433 

234  1  mettled  :  full  of  spirit.  —  1  managed  :  well  trained.  —  7  morning- 
tide  :  "  tide  "  here  means  time ;  in  the  first  two  lines  of  this  poem  it 
means  waterside,  where  the  tide  rises. 

235  5  light :  Parse   this   word.  — 16  This   song   is   from    the   fourth 
chapter   of   "  Quentin   Durward." — 16  County:    Count.  —  20  nis   lay: 
notice  the  position  in  the  clause.  —  22  confess:  bear  manifest  witness 
to  the  influence  of. 

236  9  pensile  :  hanging.  —  27  wanton :  luxuriantly  growing. 

237  6  Embalms  :    converts    to    balm.  —  27  her :    compare   with   his, 
p.  238,  1.  5. 

240  9  [In  this  and  in  other  instances  the  addition  (or  the  change)  of 
a  title  has  been  risked,  in  hope  that  the  aim  of  the  piece  following  may 
be  grasped  more  clearly  and  immediately.]  —  22  fretting  :  Is  this  word 
used  in  a  physical  (=  ruffling)  or  in  a  metaphysical  sense  ?  —  28  Writhed  : 
supply  "who." 

241  3  From  the  third  canto  of  "  Marmion."  —  3-6  Should  these  lines 
be  as  bare  of  punctuation   as   they  are? — 11  Eleuloro:  a  Highland 
(Gaelic)  lament.  — 14  laving  :  Perhaps  "  their  banks  "  is  understood. 

242  11  The  title,  which  is  that  of  an  old  French  poem  written  by 
Alain  Chartier,  means  "  the  beautiful  lady  without  compassion."    Keats 
owed  little  or  nothing  to  any  preceding  poem.  — 12  palely  :  a  question- 
able use  of  the  adverb  in  place  of  the  adjective,  yet  the  poetic  effect 
is  striking. 

243  1  as :  as  if.  —  3-6  Notice   the   picture.   What   is   the   effect   of 
mounting  her  on  the  steed? — 17  latest:  very  last,  the  dream  from 
which  he  only  half  awoke.  —  23  gloam :    Is  this  noun  often  used? — 
24  gaped  :  Is  this  a  verb  or  a  participle  ? 

244  1  From  "  Rokeby,"  III,  xxviii.  —  4  rue  :  This  bitter  plant  was  a 
symbol  for  repentance.  —  7  Lincoln:  a  town  famous  for  its  dyeing  of 
green  cloth.  — 11  trow  :  suppose.  — 12  fain  :  joyously. 

245  11  singled :  Fowler  thinks  that  this  means  "  left  single,"  "  left 
alone,"  rather  than  w  selected,"  picked  out.    Is  this  explanation  too 
subtle  ?  — 12  An  obscure  line.    Perhaps  the  sense  is  that,  after  love  has 
first  left  its  well-built  nest  in  an  unstable  heart,  then  that  heart  is  left  to 
endure  the  person  it  has  once  loved,  or  else  the  fact  that  it  has  loved 
and  proved  inconstant.  — 15  the  frailest :  Fowler  explains  this  as  meaning 
1 '  the  human  heart."    Perhaps  it  means  the  singer  himself.  —  22  eagle  : 
lofty. — 25  Neidpath  Castle  was  the  residence  of  the  earls  of  March 
(compare  p.  246,  1.  27),  near  Peebles.   The  tradition  which  occasioned 
Scott's  and  Campbell's  poems  is  made  sufficiently  clear  by  their  treat- 
ment of  it. 

246  20  As  :  as  if.    Parse  glancing. 

247  8  Ellen :  a  bad  rime,  but  it  would  be  an  affectation  to  contend 
that  it  is  a  serious  blemish  in  an  exquisitely  tender  and  beautiful  poem. 


434  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

— 13  [This  beautiful  sonnet  was  the  last  word  of  a  youth,  in  whom,  if 
the  fulfillment  may  ever  safely  be  prophesied  from  the  promise,  Eng- 
land lost  one  of  the  most  rarely  gifted  in  the  long  roll  of  her  poets. 
Shakespeare  and  Milton,  had  their  lives  been  closed  at  twenty-five, 
would  (so  far  as  we  know)  have  left  poems  of  less  excellence  and  hope 
than  the  youth  who,  from  the  petty  school  and  the  London  surgery, 
passed  at  once  to  a  place  with  them  of  "high  collateral  glory."]  — 
16  Eremite:  hermit. 

2483  charact'ry:  printed  characters.  —  6  romance:  that  of  creation, 
of  the  wonders  of  the  infinite  universe.  —  8  magic  hand  of  chance :  in- 
spiration.— 15  The  title  means  Absent  things  longed  for.  — 17  Thee: 
Wordsworth's  daughter  Catharine,  who  died  in  early  childhood. 

249  4  [It  is  impossible  not  to  regret  that  Moore  has  written  so  little 
in  this  sweet  and  genuinely  national  style.]  —  4  weeping  :  Dew  was  the 
tears  of  the  stars.  — 11  orison :  prayer.  — 14  [A  masterly  example  of 
Byron's  command  of  strong  thought  and  close  reasoning  in  verse :  as 
the  next  is  equally  characteristic  of  Shelley's  wayward  intensity.] 

2507  What  I  loved  so  well  has  now  become  nothing  —  not  literally, 
however.  Compare  p.  251,  11.  23-25. 

25126  endears:  What  is  the  subject  of  this  verb? — 28  One  word: 
love.  Compare  the  second  stanza,  which  explains  the  first. 

252  4  that :  Fowler  says  that  here  that  "  must  mean  love."    But  must 
it  ?  It  may  not  be  very  great  poetry  which  Shelly  gives  us  if  that  stands 
for///jj/;  but  even  Shelley  may  have  ended  a  stanza  in  a  weak  fashion, 
and  even  he  is  not  exempt  from  obedience  to  the  rules  of  grammar.  — 
13  Pibroch  :  martial  music  on  the  bagpipe.    The  time  of  these  verses  is 
1431  A.D. ;  the  scene  the  northern  Highlands.  —  23  pennon:  pennant, 
flag. 

253  22  man  set :  How  is  this  phrase  used  ?    Does  it  make  a  good  rime 
with  onset  ?    Does  the  blemish  seriously  mar  the  splendidly  spirited  war 
song  ?    Would  it  not  be  well  if  some  modern  critics  were  to  revise  their 
unflattering  opinions  of  Scott  as  a  poet?  —  25  sheet:  a  rope  or  chain 
used  to  move  a  sail.  —  25  flowing  :  rising. 

2551  Robert  Blake  (1599-1657)  and  Horatio  Nelson  (Lord  Nelson, 
1758-1805),  two  of  the  greatest  of  England's  naval  heroes.  —  8  steep: 
doubtless  used  for  the  cliffs  that  line  the  coast  of  England.  —  27  The 
battle  of  the  Baltic  commemorated  in  this  stirring  ode  was  fought  under 
Nelson  on  April  2,  1801.  For  its  results  on  England's  relations  with 
the  northern  nations  see  some  English  history. 

256  21  hurricane  eclipse  :  eclipse,  blotting  out  by  a  great  storm. 

257  15  funeral  light :  light  that  lit  up  the  spectacle  of  destruction.  — 
19,  20  These  lines  show  how  the/<y/  of  1.  17  is  to  be  exhibited.  —  25  El- 
sinore :    a   Danish    seaport.     Compare    "Hamlet." — 29  Edward    Riou 
(i758?-i8oi),  a  captain  killed  in  the  battle.  —  32  mermaid's  song:  This 


NOTES  435 

touch  has  been  objected  to  as  artificial.  Is  this  criticism  or  hypercriti- 
cism  ?  In  other  words,  does  the  fact  that  the  mermaid  is  an  accepted 
figure  of  poetical  mythology  minimize,  to  a  considerable  extent,  the 
incongruity  and  artificiality  ? 

258  1  Daughter  of  the  Voice :  echo.    De  Quincey,  quoted  by  Fowler. 

—  12  sense:  perhaps  nearly  equivalent  to  "intuitions."  — 15,  16  Many 
readers  may  prefer  another  reading  of  these  lines : 

Long  may  the  kindly  impulse  last ! 

But  Thou,  if  they  should  totter,  teach  them  to  stand  fast. 

—  24  Is  this  better  than  the  reading,  "  Yet  find  that  other  strength, 
according  to  their  need  "  ? 

259  5  uncharter'd :  unregulated.    The  poet  perhaps  had  in  mind  the 
charters  that  helped  to  reduce  to  order  the  lawlessness  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  —  9-16  This  stanza  should  be  carefully  studied  as  an  illustration 
of  the  working  of  a  noble  imagination.  —  25  [Bonnivard,  a  Genevese, 
was  imprisoned  by  the  Duke  of  Savoy  in  Chillon  on  the  lake  of  Geneva 
for  his  courageous  defense  of  his   country  against  the  tyranny  with 
which  Piedmont  threatened  it  during  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth 
century.    This  noble  sonnet  is  worthy  to  stand  near  Milton's  on  the 
Vaudois  massacre.] 

2609  [Switzerland  was  usurped  by  the  French  under  Napoleon  in 
1800;  Venice  in  1797  (255)].  — 13  tyrant:  Napoleon.  —  23  in  fee  :  as  a 
fief  or  dependency.  See  a  sketch  of  the  history  of  Venice  in  some 
good  encyclopedia. 

261  3,  4  A  reference  to  the  custom  of  the  doge  going  out  to  espouse 
the  Adriatic.  — 11  Poets  have  not  infrequently  bemoaned  the  condition 
of  their  country  in  terms  of  unwarranted  severity.    Cowper  had  done  it 
before  Wordsworth.   Yet,  on  the  whole,  noble  faultfinding  is  more  stimu- 
lating than  most  praise,  which  so  often  and  easily  tends  to  be  chauvinistic 
and  fatuous.    And  Wordsworth  apologizes  finely  in  258.  —  22  cause:  of 
home  and  fatherland.  —  23  fearful :  full  of  fear  lest  it  do  wrong. 

262  3  pen  :  used  with  reference  to  writers  and  students  in  general.  — 
8  manners  :  good  habits  that  make  character. 

263  4  [This  battle  was  fought  December  3,  1800,  between  the  Aus- 
trians  under  Archduke  John  and  the  French  under  Moreau,  in  a  forest 
near  Munich.   Hohen  Linden  means  High  LimetreesJ]  —  25  dun :  dark. 

264  3  Munich  :  the  Bavarian  capital. 

265  6  wonder-waiting  :  waiting  in  wonder  to  hear  the  story.  — 15  Blen- 
heim :  a  village  on  the  Danube,  near  the  Nebel  (referred  to  in  the  next 
line),  where  on  August  13,  1704,  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  and  Prince 
Eugene  of  Savoy,  commanding  the  allies  (England,  Holland,  and  the 
Empire),  defeated  the  French  in  one  of  the  most  famous  of  battles.— 
16  hard  by  :  near  that  little  stream.  —  23  childing  :  with  child. 


436  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

266  2  our :  Prince  Eugene  (1663-1736)  was  a  Frenchman,  who  through 
indignation  at  his  treatment  by  France,  entered  the  Austrian  service. 
He  was   a  very  able   soldier   and  statesman.  — 13  The  title  is   from 
Horace's  Odes,  Book  III,  ode  ii,  13,  and  is  the  conclusion  of  the  line, 
which  translated  means  "  It  is  sweet  and  glorious  to  die  for  the  father- 
land."— 17  my  :  These  lines,  addressed  to  Ireland,  are  put  in  the  mouth 
of  Robert  Emmet  (1778-1803),  who  was  executed  for  his  share  in  the 
Irish  uprising  of  1803. 

267  1  [After  the  capture  of  Madrid  by  Napoleon,  Sir  John  Moore 
retreated  before   Soult  and  Ney  to   Corunna,   and  was   killed  whilst 
covering  the  embarkation  of  his  troops],  January  16,  1809. 

268  5  Cardigan  :  in  Wales.  —  29  But  oh  the  heavy  change  :   a  reminis- 
cence of  '*  Lycidas." 

271  1  deeds :  the  object  of  returning,  which  participle  is  construed 
with  hearts  unkind.  —  2  still :  ever.  — 14  friend  :  the  poet,  Charles 
Lloyd  (Fowler). 

274  16  that  it  was  gray :  a  clause  giving  the  reason  for  smiled.  — 
17  prodigal's  :  Youth  and  the  season  of  spring.  — 18  miser's  :  Age  and 
the  season  of  winter. 

275  13  in  feathers  :  with  flight  like  that  of  birds. 

277  13  The  sage  :   It  is  not  clear  what  special  sage,  if  any,  Shelley  had 
in  mind.  —  27  Compare  the  manner  of  Shelley's  death.    A  fifth  stanza 
has  been  omitted  from  the  poem  as  it  was  originally  written  in  Decem- 
ber, 1818.    Note  that  if  each  of  the  first  eight  lines  had  an  additional 
foot,  this  poem  would  be  in  Spenserian  stanzas. 

278  24  [The  Mermaid  was  the  clubhouse  of  Shakespeare,  Ben  Jonson, 
and  other  choice  spirits  of  that  age.]  —  30  Robin  Hood  :  See  "  Ivanhoe." 

279  2  bowse  :  booze,  drink  heavily.  — 12  Zodiac  :  "An  imaginary  belt 
encircling  the  heavens  .  .  .  within  which  are  the  larger  planets.    It  is 
divided  into  twelve  parts,  called  signs  of  the  Zodiac,  which  formerly 
corresponded  to  twelve  constellations  bearing  the  same  name  "  (The 
Students'  Standard  Dictionary).    See  some  almanac.    Are  the  poets  in 
the  Zodiac,  or  is  the  Mermaid  there,  as  a  new  constellation,  or  are  both 
there  ? — 17   [Scott  has  given  us  nothing  more  complete  and  lovely  than 
this  little  song]  from  "  The  Heart  of  Midlothian,"  Chapter  XL  [which 
unites  simplicity  and  dramatic  power  to  a  wild-wood  music  of  the  rarest 
quality.    No  moral  is  drawn,  far  less  any  conscious  analysis  of  feeling 
attempted ;  the  pathetic  meaning  is  left  to  be  suggested  by  the  mere 
presentment  of  the  situation.    A  narrow  criticism  has  often  named  this, 
which  may  be  called  the  Homeric  manner,  superficial,  from  its  apparent 
simple  facility ;  but  first-rate  excellence  in  it  is  in  truth  one  of  the  least 
common  triumphs  of  poetry.    This  style  should  be  compared  with  what 
is  not  less  perfect  in  its  way,  the  searching  out  of  inner  feeling,  the 
expression  of  hidden  meanings,  the  revelation  of  the  heart  of  nature 


NOTES  437 

and  of  the  soul  within  the  soul,  —  the  analytical  method,  in  short,  — 
most  completely  represented  by  Wordsworth  and  by  Shelley.]  — 
23  braw  :  handsome.  —  24  Kirkward  :  toward  the  church. 

280  14  cerements  :  waxed  clothes  in  which  the  dead  were  buried. 

283  4  contumely  :  Notice  the  accentuation. 

284  32  forewarning  :  of  heaven. 

285  1  [Wolfe  resembled  Keats,  not  only  in  his  early  death  by  con- 
sumption and  the  fluent  freshness  of  his  poetical  style,  but  in  beauty  of 
character  —  brave,  tender,  energetic,  unselfish,  modest.    Is  it  fanciful 
to  find  some  reflex  of  these  qualities  in  the  "Burial"  and  "  Mary"?    Out 
of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  .  .  .] 

286  1  Coronach  :    dirge.  — 15   in  flushing  :    full   bloom.  —  17    [correi : 
covert  on  a  hillside.]  — 18  [cumber :   trouble.] 

287  3  As :  as  if.  — 13  [This  book  has  not  a  few  poems  of  greater 
power  and  more  perfect  execution  than  "Agnes  "  and  the  extract  which 
we   have   ventured   to   make   from   the    deep-hearted    author's   "  Sad 
Thoughts  "  (224).   But  none  are  more  emphatically  marked  by  the  note 
of  exquisiteness.]    Nevertheless  it  should  be  noted  that  11.  3,  4,  p.  288, 
come  perilously  near  to  being  doggerel,  although  they  have  the  merit 
of  representing  British  respectability  in  a  most  adequate  manner. 

288  24  [inch :  island.]  —  27,  28  This  is  an  illustration  of  the  phenom- 
enon known  as   second-sight,  long  believed  in  by  the  Highlanders. 
Compare  Defoe's  "  Duncan  Campbell." 

2892  Roslin:  "Roslin  Castle  now  consists  of  a  ruined  keep,  and  a 
mansion  of  more  modern  date.  It  stands  on  a  steep  eminence,  over- 
looking the  Esk.  Roslin  Chapel  ...  is,  though  of  small  size,  one  of  the 
richest  and  most  perfect  specimens  of  church  architecture  in  Scotland  " 
(Palgrave's  note  in  the  Globe  Scott). — 16  Hawthornden  :  the  residence 
of  William  Drummond,  some  of  whose  poems  are  included  in  this 
volume. 

290  25  Promethean :  see  a  classical  dictionary.  —  31  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this  and  the  next  two  lines  ? 

291  11  clerks  :  scholars. 

2921  [From  "Poetry  for  Children"  (1809),  by  Charles  and  Mary 
Lamb.  This  tender  and  original  little  piece  seems  clearly  to  reveal  the 
work  of  that  noble-minded  and  afflicted  sister,  who  was  at  once  the 
happiness,  the  misery,  and  the  life-long  blessing  of  her  equally  noble- 
minded  brother.]  —  5-8  Note  the  splendid  poetic  quality  of  this  stanza. 

293  12  love  :  a  noun  or  an  infinitive  ?  — 13  Neglect  me  :  Did  I  brood 
over  his  neglect,  or  rather,  shall  I  brood  now,  or  some  such  paraphrase 
seems  needed. 

295  25  Time  :  object  of  balk,  deprive  of  his  prey. 

29630  unbodied:  disembodied. 

298  21  hymeneal :  relating  to  marriage. 


438  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

299  21  measures  :  musical  strains. 

300  18  paramours  :  lovers. 

301  9  [This  poem  has  an  exaltation  and  a  glory,  joined  with  an  ex- 
quisiteness  of  expression,  which  place  it  in  the  highest  rank  among  the 
many  masterpieces  of  its  illustrious  author.] 

302  14  Lethe-wards  :  toward  the  river  of  forgetfulness.  — 17  Dryad  : 
see  a  classical  dictionary.  —  23  Flora:  the  Roman  goddess  of  flowers. 
—  24  Provencal  song  :  the  poetry  of  the  troubadours  of  Provence,  in  the 
south  of  France.  — 26  Hippocrene  :  the  spring  of  the  Muses  on  Mt.  Heli- 
con. —  27  winking :  hard  to  render  in  prose ;  sparkling  gleefully,  perhaps. 

303  12  pards :  tigers  or  lynxes  that  drew  the  wine  god's  chariot.  — 
31  Darkling :  hidden  in  the  dark. 

304  10  clown  :  rustic. 

305  17  debonair :   Perhaps  this  means  here  charming  rather  than  ele- 
gant. —  20  Philomel :  the  nightingale. —  25  This  sonnet  is  probably  due 
more  or  less  to  Shelley's  own  invention. 

306  11  Neidpath  Castle  :  see  above,  poems  240  and  241. 
308  26  peers  :  those  of  equal  station. 

311  28  Cheapside  :  for  these  streets  see  Baedeker's  "  London." 

312  7  Ariel    to    Miranda :     see    Shakespeare's    "  The    Tempest."  — 
30  [interlunar  swoon  :  interval  of  the  moon's  invisibility.] 

315  17,  18  These  lines  were  supplied  to  the  poet  by  his  wife. 

316  1  dappled  :  spotted,  variegated,  with  the  daisies.  —  9  port :  bear- 
ing. — 17  Cyclops :  see  a  classical  dictionary  and  the  Odyssey. 

3181  barred  clouds:  that  suggest  bars  (probably).  —  1  bloom:  reflect 
the  rosy  glow  of,  or  give  a  glowing  quality  to.  —  4  river  sallows  :  willows 
by  the  river.  —  6  hilly  bourn :  boundary  of  hills.  —  8  garden  croft :  in- 
closure  that  serves  as  a  garden.  — 10  fiery-mantled :  covered  with  fire, 
as  the  cheek  with  blushes.  —  20  [Calpe  :  Gibraltar.] — 22  buxom-brown: 
brown  with  health.  —  23  Queen  of  vintage :  autumn.  In  this  stanza 
Campbell  is  apparently  affected  by  the  style  of  Collins. 

319  1  [Lofoden :  the  maelstrom  whirlpool  off  the  northwest  coast  of 
Norway.]    See  Poe's  "  The  Descent  of  the  Maelstrom."  —  3  Runic  Odin  : 
the  chief  god  of  the  northern  mythology,  celebrated  in  runic  poetry.  — 
11  Of  power :  which  (thd  shaft)  has  the  power.  —  34  tented :  This  ode 
was  written  when  war  was  widespread. 

320  11   [This  lovely  poem  refers  here  and  there  to  a  ballad  by  Hamil- 
ton on  the  subject,  better  treated  in  163  and  164.]  — 16  Marrow :  mate, 
companion,  —  his  sister,  Dorothy  Wordsworth.  — 18  Braes  :  slopes.  — 
27  Leader  Haughs  :  the  meadows  along  the  river  Leader.  —  29  Dryburgh : 
the  seat  of  the  abbey.  —  30  lintwhites  :  linnets. 

321 1  Tiviot-dale  :  also  Teviot.  — 13  holms  :  alluvial  fields.  — 17  strath: 
valley. 

3235-12  Compare  above,  poems  163  and  164. 


NOTES  439 

325  1  This  poem  is  not  given  in  its  complete  form.  —  3,  4  Note  the 
influence  of  Milton's  "L 'Allegro."  —  9  halcyon:  calm.  See  a  classical 
dictionary  under  "Alcyone." 

3263  dun:  dark.  —  8  never  sets:  blooms  at  all  seasons.  —  21  thou : 
Shelley's  friend,  Mrs.  Jane  Williams. 

327  27  With :  Fowler  notes  that  Palgrave  follows  W.  M.  Rossetti's 
edition,  other  editions  reading  by. 

329  18  Abraham's  bosom  :  see  Luke  xvi,  22. 

331 15  See  above,  poem  58. 

332  5  sentinel  stars  :  Lovelace  had  already  employed  this  phrase. 

3336  copse:  thicket. — 9  pied:  variegated.  — 10  [Arcturi :  seemingly 
used  for  northern  stars.]  — 10,  11  Compare  p.  326,  1.  8.  — 13  tall  flower: 
What  flower  did  Shelley  mean  ?  —  21  [And  wild  roses  :  Our  language 
has  perhaps  no  line  modulated  with  more  subtle  sweetness.] — 26  prank'd : 
adorned,  decked. 

334  9  Kept :  the  subject  is  children ;  the  objects  are  hues  and  array. 
Would  a  comma  after  array  help  the  awkward  passage?  — 13  [Cole- 
ridge describes  this  poem  as  the  fragment  of  a  dream  vision  —  perhaps, 
an  opium  dream  ?  —  which  composed  itself  in  his  mind  when  fallen 
asleep  after  reading  a  few  lines  about  "  the  Khan  Kubla  "  in  Purchas's 
"  Pilgrimage."]   Kubla  Khan,  founder  of  the  Mongol  Dynasty  and  builder 
of  Peking,  lived  in  the  thirteenth  century  of  this  era.  —  25  cover  :  wood. 

335  1  vaulted  :    leaped   up.  — 13  measure  :    music.  — 17   dulcimer  :    a 
stringed  instrument  played  with  two  padded  hammers.  — 21  Mount  Abora : 
in  Abyssinia. 

336  19,  20  The  rimes  suggest  the  remark  that  editors  who  are  elo- 
quently censorious  with  regard  to  the  faulty  rimes  of  Byron  and  Campbell 
accept  those  of  Keats  and  Shelley  with  a  gaping  gratitude  of  silence. 

337  2  ingle  :  fireplace.  —  7  shoon :  old  plural  of  shoes. 

338  1  Shaded  :  that  has  grown  up  in  the  shade  (probably).  —  31  [Ceres' 
daughter :    Proserpine.]  —  32  [God  of  Torment :    Pluto.]  —  35  Hebe  :  see 
a  classical  dictionary. 

339  2  kirtle :   a  garment  with   a  skirt.  —  7  The   comparison   of  this 
poem  with  "L 'Allegro"  is  inevitable.    Despite  the  wealth  of  beauty 
lavished  by  the  romantic  poet,  the  student  will  do  well  to  note  the 
superiority  of  the  more  restrained  poet,  who  is  the  supreme  English 
representative  of  classical  art. 

340  5  This  poem  shows  Nature's  influence  in  the  formation  of  an  evil 
character,   as   poem   222  shows  her  power  to  train  a  noble  soul. — 
26  Cherokees  :  The  student  need  not  be  surprised  that,  although  he  was 
an  Englishman,  Wordsworth  selected  the  name  of  a  tribe  of  Indians 
who  were  really  found  in  the  southern  states.    He  had  read  such  books 
as  William  Bartram's  "  Travels,"  and  had    caught  from  them  some 
notions  of  the  beauty  of  semitropical  nature. 


440  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

341  20-22  Compare  Othello's  wooing  of  Desdemona. 

3427  savannahs:  meadows  (Spanish).  Compare  the  name  of  the 
Georgia  city. 

3432  sylvan:  forest.  —  20-27  Do  these  lines  represent  the  prosaic 
Wordsworth  ?  —  27  West :  Is  Wordsworth's  geography  becoming  hazy  ? 

346  4-6  These  lines  seem  labored  when  compared  with  the  following 
more  appropriate  close  of  the  stanza : 

And  there  she  sang  tumultuous  songs, 
By  recollection  of  her  wrongs 
To  fearful  passion  roused. 

— 11  clear :  This  once  read  wild.  — 17  it  liked  her :  note  the  archaic 
touch.  —  22  Tone:  a  small  river  in  Somersetshire,  near  the  Quantock 
Hills  (see  p.  347,  1.  21).  —  25  engines:  Wordsworth  seems  to  assume 
that  Ruth  had  as  philosophic  an  insight  into  the  effects  of  free  nature 
as  had  the  thoughtful  but  in  this  case  rather  fantastic  poet. 

348  1  [The  leading  idea  of  this  beautiful  description  of  a  day's  land- 
scape in  Italy  appears  to  be :  On  the  voyage  of  life  are  many  moments 
of  pleasure,  given  by  the  sight  of  nature,  who  has  power  to  heal  even 
the  worldliness  and  the  uncharity  of  man.]  The  poem  has  been  short- 
ened.— 14  drank:  strictly  the  preterite  form.  —  31  Euganean:  hills  be- 
tween Padua  and  Verona.  —  32  paean  :  choral  song  addressed  to  Apollo. 

3498  grain:  dye  or  color.  See  above,  "II  Penseroso,"  p.  129,  1.  17. 
—  25  [Amphitrite  :  daughter  to  Ocean.]  —  33  As:  as  if. 

350 13  watery  bier  :  a  phrase  used  by  Milton  in  "  Lycidas,"  p.  73, 1.  28- 
— 16  slave  of  slaves  :  Napoleon,  —  a  moral  rather  than  historical  judg- 
ment. —  33  mask :  dance. 

351  5  air-dissolv6d :  dissolved  into  air,  whatever  that  phenomenon 
may  be.  —  8  profound:  depth.  — 18  dun:  dark.  —  22  olive-sandal' d  :  The 
reference  is  to  the  olive  trees  lining  the  foot  of  the  mountains. 

353  7  interval :  object  of  supplies,  two  lines  below.  — 15  it :  the  "  heal- 
ing paradise"  of  p.  352,  1.  36.    Are  they  the  w  Spirits"  of  p.  352,  1.  34, 
or  the  "  polluting  multitude  "  of  p.  353,  1.  i  ? 

354  7  [Maenad :  a   frenzied   nymph,   attendant   on    Dionysus  in   the 
Greek  mythology.    May  we  not  call  this  the  most  vivid,  sustained,  and 
impassioned  amongst  all  'Shelley's  magical  personifications  of  nature  ?] 
— 18  Baiae's  bay :  a  resort  of  the  Romans  at  the  western  end  of  the 
Bay  of  Naples. — 25  [Plants  under  water  sympathize  with  the  seasons 
of  the  land,  and  hence  with  the  winds  which  affect  them.] 

355  22  [Written  soon  after  the  death  by  shipwreck,  of  Wordsworth's 
brother  John]  see  p.  356,  1.  28.    [This  poem  may  be  profitably  compared 
with  Shelley's  following  it.    Each  is  the  most  complete  expression  of 
the  innermost  spirit  of  his  art  given  by  these  great  poets,  —  of  that 
Idea  which,  as  in  the  case  of  the  true  painter  (to  quote  the  words  of 


NOTES  441 

Reynolds),  "  subsists  only  in  the  mind ;  the  sight  never  beheld  it,  nor  hag 
the  hand  expressed  it ;  it  is  an  idea  residing  in  the  breast  of  the  artist, 
which  he  is  always  laboring  to  impart,  and  which  he  dies  at  last  with- 
out imparting."]  Sir  George  Beaumont  of  Coleorton  Hall  was  a  culti- 
vated friend  of  Wordsworth's.  Peele  Castle  is  "  a  ruined  keep  on  a 
small  island  close  to  the  modern  town  of  Barrow,  in  Furness,  Lanca- 
shire "  (Fowler). 

356  5-8  One  of  the  most  famous  passages  in  Wordsworth's  poetry. 

357  7  hulk  :  dismantled  vessel.  — 14  [the  Kind  :  the  human  race.]  — 
21  From  "  Prometheus  Unbound,"  Act  I,  scene  i.  —  22  love-adept :  one 
versed  in  love. 

358  6  Ossian  :  the  ancient  Gaelic  poet. 

359  17  Proteus :  the  old  man  of  the  sea  in  Grecian  mythology,  who 
kept  Amphitrite's  seals,  and  could  change  himself  into  any  form, — 
whence   the   adjective   "protean."  — 18   Triton:    the   trumpeter   who 
raised   or   calmed   the  waves.     Compare    Spenser's   lines   in   "  Colin 
Clout's  Come  Home  Againe  "  : 

Of  them  the  shepheard  which  hath  charge  in  chief, 
Is  Triton  blowing  loud  his  wreathed  home. 

— 19  [royal  Saint :  Henry  VI.]  —  22  white-robed  :  wearing  surplices.  — 
26  sense  :  of  beauty. 

360  7  [Every  one  knows  the  general  story  of  the  Italian  Renaissance, 
of  the  revival  of  letters.    From  Petrarch's  day  to  our  own,  that  ancient 
world  has  renewed  its  youth ;  poets  and  artists,  students  and  thinkers, 
have  yielded  themselves  wholly  to  its  fascination,  and  deeply  pene- 
trated its  spirit.    Yet  perhaps  no  one  more  truly  has  vivified,  whilst 
idealizing,  the  picture  of  Greek  country  life  in  the  fancied  Golden  Age, 
than  Keats  in  these  lovely  (if  somewhat  unequally  executed)  stanzas ; 
his  quick  imagination,  by  a  kind  of  "  natural  magic,"  more  than  supply- 
ing the  scholarship  which  his  youth  had  no  opportunity  of  gaining.]  — 
13  Temp6  :  the  famous  vale  in  Thessaly.  — 13  Arcady :  in  the  Pelopon- 
nesus, famous  for  pastoral  life.  — 16  timbrels:  tambourines.  — 19  sen- 
sual :  not  used  with  an  unpleasant  connotation. 

361  4  passion :    object  of  above.  — 13  [this  folk :   its  has  been  here 
plausibly,  but  perhaps  unnecessarily,  conjectured.] 

362  7  unknown  of  yore  :  save  in  poetry.  —  22  it :  that  Thou  art  gone 
(see  following  line). — 22  fond  conceit:  foolish  fancy.  —  28  slips:  strips. 
—  30  blossoms  :  a  verb. 

364  9  sued  :  Does  this  mean  wooed,  courted,  or  followed  ? 

365  8  wilding :  crab  apple.  — 19  catch  :  snatch. 

3693  cloud:  thundercloud.  —  6  stain:  almost  meaningless.  Shelley 
probably  meant  to  write  strain.  — 19  Trosachs :  a  mountain  pass  in 
Perthshire,  Scotland. 


442  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

370  18  The  fundamental  idea  of  this  great  ode  —  already  expressed 
in  Vaughan's  beautiful  poem  (see  above,  p.  84)  —  is  Platonic.  Words- 
worth held  it  true  only  in  a  poetic  sense. 

37112  tabor:  a  small  drum.  —  31  coronal:  wreath.  Do  you  like  the 
cadence  of  this  line  ? 

373  9  the  Child :  Hartley  Coleridge.  There  are  lines  in  this  stanza 
which  to  some  readers  come  near  to  being  doggerel.  Despite  the 
truth  to  nature  of  the  description,  the  poet's  style  seems  to  drop  dis- 
tressingly far  below  the  splendid  level  maintained  in  the  stanzas  that 
precede  and  follow.  Lines  12,  13,  are  unamenable  to  this  criticism;  but 
in  contrast  see  11.  30,  31. 

375  14-20  A  splendid  illustration  of  Wordsworth's  imagination  at  its 
height,  —  the  power  of  seeing  and  making  others  see  "the  light  that 
never  was  on  sea  or  land." 

376  4-20  These  lines  are  both  nobly  calm  and  piercingly  pathefic. 
Which  seems  in  excess,  the  calm  or  the  pathos?  —  21  This  snatch  of 
suggestive  melody  forms  a  lovely  epilogue  to  the  most  beautiful  volume 
of  lyric  poetry  in  the  English  language.    Coming  as  it  does  after  the 
deep  harmony  of  Wordsworth's  concluding  stanza,  it  helps  us  to  com- 
prehend the  range  of  our  lyric  verse. 


INDEX  OF  WRITERS 

AND 

INDEX  OF  FIRST   LINES 


443 


INDEX  OF  WRITERS 

WITH  DATES  OF  BIRTH  AND  DEATH 

PAGE 

AIKIN.   See  Barbauld 

ALEXANDER,  WILLIAM  (1567  ?-i64o) 

To  Aurora • 20 

BARBAULD,  ANNA  LETITIA  (1743-1825) 

To  Life 212 

BARNARD.   See  Lindsay 

BARNFIELD,  RICHARD  (1574-1627) 

The  Nightingale 29 

BEAUMONT,  FRANCIS  (1584-1616) 

On  the  Tombs  in  Westminster  Abbey 79 

BLAKE,  WILLIAM  (1757-1827) 

Love's  Secret 169 

Infant  Joy „ 178 

A  Cradle  Song 179 

To  the  Muses 214 

BURNS,  ROBERT  (1759-1796) 

Lament  for  Culloden 156 

A  Farewell 165 

Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Doon 170 

To  a  Mouse 182 

Mary  Morison 190 

Bonnie  Lesley 191 

O  my  Luve  's  like  a  red,  red  rose 192 

Highland  Mary 192 

Duncan  Gray 194 

Jean 197 

John  Anderson 198 

445 


446  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGF 

BYRON,  GEORGE  NOEL  GORDON  (1788-1824) 

All  for  Love 219 

There  be  none  of  Beauty's  daughters 222 

She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 223 

When  we  two  parted 239 

Elegy  on  Thyrza 249 

On  the  Castle  of  Chillon .    .    .    , 259 

Youth  and  Age 273 

v      y 283 

CAMPBELL,  THOMAS  (1777-1844) 

Lord  Ullin's  Daughter 229 

To  the  Evening  Star 236 

Earl  March  look'd  on  his  dying  child 246 

Ye  Mariners  of  England 254 

Battle  of  the  Baltic 255 

Hohenlinden 263 

The  Beech  Tree's  Petition 306 

Ode  to  Winter 318 

Song  to  the  Evening  Star 329 

The  Soldier's  Dream 332 

The  River  of  Life 367 

CAMPION,  THOMAS  (c.  1567-1619) 

Basia 17 

Advice  to  a  Girl 18 

In  Imagine  Pertransit  Homo 32 

Sleep,  angry  beauty,  sleep 33 

A  Renunciation 35 

O  Crudelis  Amor 39 

Sic  Transit 53 

The  man  of  life  upright 55 

A  Hymn  in  Praise  of  Neptune 86 

Cherry-Ripe 98 

Fortunati  Nimium 123 

CAREW,  THOMAS  (1598?-!  638) 

The  True  Beauty 96 

CAREY,  HENRY  ( 1743) 

Sally  in  our  Alley 163 

GIBBER,  COLLEY  (1671-1757) 

The  Blind  Boy 147 


INDEX  OF  WRITERS  447 

PAGE 

COLERIDGE,  HARTLEY  (1796-1849) 

She  is  not  fair  to  outward  view 225 

COLERIDGE,  SAMUEL  TAYLOR  (1772-1834) 

Love  (Genevieve) 216 

Kubla  Khan 334 

Youth  and  Age 361 

COLLINS,  JOHN  ( 1808) 

To-morrow 211 

COLLINS,  WILLIAM  (1721-1759) 

Ode  to  Simplicity 145 

Ode  written  in  1746 156 

The  Passions 174 

Ode  to  Evening 184 

COWLEY,  ABRAHAM  (1618-1667) 

A  Supplication 108 

On  the  Death  of  Mr.  William  Hervey 115 

COWPER,  WILLIAM  (1731-1800) 

Loss  of  the  Royal  George 160 

To  a  Young  Lady 167 

The  Poplar  Field 181 

The  Shrubbery 203 

The  Solitude  of  Alexander  Selkirk 205 

To  Mary  Unwin 207 

To  the  Same 207 

The  .Castaway 209 

CRASHAW,  RICHARD  (i6i3?-i649) 

Wishes  for  the  Supposed  Mistress 87 

CUNNINGHAM,  ALLAN  (1784-1842) 

A  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea 253 

DANIEL,  SAMUEL  (1562-1619) 

Care-charmer  Sleep 30 

DEKKER,  THOMAS  (i57o?-i64i  ?) 

The  Happy  Heart 53 

DEVEREUX,  ROBERT  (Earl  of  Essex)  (1566-1601) 

A  Wish 57 

DONNE,  JOHN  (1573  ?-i63i) 

Present  in  Absence  ,.,,,, 9 


448  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGE 

DRAYTON,  MICHAEL  (1563-1631) 

Love's  Farewell 31 

DRUMMOND,  WILLIAM  (1585-1649) 

Summons  to  Love 3 

A  Lament 40 

To  his  Lute 41 

This  Life,  which  seems  so  fair 54 

The  Lessons  of  Nature 56 

Doth  then  the  world  go  thus  ? 56 

Saint  John  Baptist 58 

DRYDEN,  JOHN  (1631-1700) 

Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day,  1687 67 

Alexander's  Feast 138 

ELLIOT,  JANE  (1727-1805) 

The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  (Flodden) 157 

FLETCHER,  JOHN  (1579-1625) 

Melancholy no 

GAY,  JOHN  (1685  •?-I732) 

Black-Eyed  Susan 162 

GOLDSMITH,  OLIVER  (1728-1774) 

When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  folly 169 

GRAHAM,  ROBERT  (1735-1797) 

If  doughty  deeds  my  lady  please 166 

GRAY,  THOMAS  (1716-1771) 

Ode  on  the  Pleasure  arising  from  Vicissitude 143 

On  a  Favorite  Cat 148 

The  Bard 151 

The  Progress  of  Poesy 170 

X~de  on  the  Spring 179 

legy  written  in  a  Country  Churchyard 186 

Ode  on  a  Distant  Prospect  of  Eton  College 200 

Hymn  to  Adversity 204 

GREENE,  ROBERT  (1558?-! 592) 

Sephestia's  Song  to  her  Child 39 

HABINGTON,  WILLIAM  (1605-1654) 

Nox  Nocti  Indicat  Scientiam 135 

HERBERT,  GEORGE  (1593-1633) 

The  Gifts  of  God 83 


INDEX  OF  WRITERS  449 

PAGE 

HERRICK,  ROBERT  (1591-1674) 

Counsel  to  Girls 93 

To  Dianeme 96 

Corinna's  Maying 99 

The  Poetry  of  Dress,  i 101 

The  Poetry  of  Dress,  2 102 

To  Anthea 104 

To  Blossoms 118 

To  Daffodils 118 

HEYWOOD,  THOMAS  ( 1649?) 

Give  my  Love  good-morrow 47 

HOOD,  THOMAS  (1799-1845) 

Past  and  Present 274 

The  Bridge  of  Sighs 280 

The  Death  Bed 286 

JONSON,  BEN  (1573-1637) 

The  Noble  Nature 83 

Hymn  to  Diana 87 

To  Celia 98 

KEATS,  JOHN  (1795-1821) 

Ode  on  the  Poets 214 

On  first  looking  into  Chapman's  Homer 216 

Happy  Insensibility 240 

La  Belle  Dame  sans  Merci 242 

Hght  Star! 247 

The  Terror  of  Death 248 

The  Mermaid  Tavern 278 

.,  Ode  to  a  Nightingale 302 

To  one  who  has  been  long  in  city  pent 305 

Ode  to  Autumn 317 

The  Realm  of  Fancy 336 

Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn 360 

The  Human  Seasons 368 

IAMB,  CHARLES  (1775-1834) 

The  Old  Familiar  Faces 271 

Hester ,    .  284 

On  an  Infant  dying  as  soon  as  born 290 


450  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGE 

LAMB,  MARY  (1764-1847) 

In  Memoriam 292 

LINDSAY,  ANNE  (1750-1825) 

Auld  Robin  Gray      .    .    .    . 193 

LODGE,  THOMAS  (i558?-i625) 

Rosaline 13 

Rosalynd's  Madrigal 45 

LOGAN,  JOHN  (1748-1788) 

The  Braes  of  Yarrow       1 57 

LOVELACE,  RICHARD  (1618-1658) 

To  Lucasta,  on  going  to  the  Wars 94 

To  Althea  from  Prison 105 

To  Lucasta,  going  beyond  the  Seas 106 

LYLY,  JOHN  (1553-1606) 

Cupid  and  Campaspe 46 

LYTE,  HENRY  FRANCIS  (1793-1847) 

A  Lost  Love 228 

Agnes 287 

MARLOWE,  CHRISTOPHER  (1564-1593) 

The  Passionate  Shepherd  to  his  Love 5 

MARVELL,  ANDREW  (1621-1678) 

Horatian  Ode  upon  Cromwell's  Return  from  Ireland  ....  69 

The  Picture  of  Little  T.C 91 

The  Girl  describes  her  Fawn 119 

Thoughts  in  a  Garden 120 

Song  of  the  Emigrants  in  Bermuda 133 

MICKLE,  WILLIAM  JULIUS  (1735-1788) 

The  Sailor's  Wife 195 

MILTON,  JOHN  (1608-1674) 

Ode  on  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Nativity 59 

On  the  late  Massacre  in  Piedmont 69 

Lycidas 73 

When  the  Assault  was  intended  to  the  City 81 

On  his  Blindness 81 

To  Mr.  Lawrence 85 

To  Cyriack  Skinner 85 

To  the  Lady  Margaret  Ley 95 


INDEX  OF  WRITERS  451 

PAGE 

MILTON,  JOHN  (Continued} 

L' Allegro 124 

II  Penseroso .128 

At  a  Solemn  Music 134 

MOORE,  THOMAS  (1779-1852) 

Echoes 235 

At  the  mid  hour  of  night 249 

Pro  Patria  Mori 266 

The  Journey  onwards       272 

The  Light  of  other  Days 275 

MUNDAY,  ANTHONY  (1553-1633) 

Colin 14 

NAIRNE,  CAROLINA  OLIPHANT,  BARONESS  (1766-1845) 

The  Land  o'  the  Leal 199 

NASH,  THOMAS  (1567-1600?) 

Spring i 

NORRIS,  JOHN  (1657-1711) 

Hymn  to  Darkness 137 

PHILIPS,  AMBROSE  (1675-1749) 

To  Charlotte  Pulteney 149 

POPE,  ALEXANDER  (1688-1744) 

Solitude 147 

PRIOR,  MATTHEW  (1664-1721) 

The  merchant,  to  secure  his  treasure 168 

QUARLES,  FRANCIS  (1592-1644) 

A  Mystical  Ecstasy 103 

ROGERS,  SAMUEL  (1763-1855) 

The  Sleeping  Beauty 167 

A  Wish 183 

SCOTT,  WALTER  (1771-1832) 

The  Outlaw 220 

Jock  of  Hazeldean 233 

A  Serenade 235 

Where  shall  the  lover  rest  ? 241 

The  Rover 244 

The  Maid  of  Neidpath 245 


452  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGE 

SCOTT,  WALTER  (Continued] 

Gathering  Song  of  Donald  the  Black 252 

The  Pride  of  Youth 279 

Coronach 286 

Rosabelle 288 

Hunting  Song 294 

Datur  Hora  Quieti 330 

SEDLEY,  CHARLES  (1639-1701) 

Child  and  Maiden 92 

Not,  Celia,  that  I  juster  am 105 

SHAKESPEARE,  WILLIAM  (1564-1616) 

The  Fairy  Life,  i 2 

The  Fairy  Life,  2 2 

Sonnets 

Time  and  Love,  i 4 

Time  and  Love,  2 5 

A  Madrigal 7 

Under  the  greenwood  tree 8 

It  was  a  lover  and  his  lass 8 

Sonnets 

Absence 10 

Absence 10 

A  Consolation n 

The  Unchangeable 12 

To  his  Love 16 

To  his  Love 16 

Love's  Perjuries 18 

Sonnet 

True  Love 21 

Carpe  Diem 23 

Winter 24 

Sonnets 

That  time  of  year 24 

Memory 25 

Revolutions 26 

Farewell ! 27 

The  Life  without  Passion 27 

Frustra — Take,  O  take  those  lips  away 31 

Sonnet  —  Blind  Love 33 


INDEX  OF  WRITERS  453 

PAGE 

SHAKESPEARE,  WILLIAM  (Continued} 

Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind 36 

Dirge  of  Love 41 

Fidele 42 

A  Sea  Dirge 42 

Sonnets 

Post  Mortem 43 

The  Triumph  of  Death 44 

Young  Love 44 

Sonnets 

Soul  and  Body 54 

The  World's  Way 57 

SHELLEY,  PERCY  BYSSHE  (1792-1822) 

Indian  Serenade 222 

I  fear  thy  kisses,  gentle  maiden 225 

Love's  Philosophy 234 

the  Night 237 

The  Flight  of  Love 244 

~~"f)ne  word  is  too  often  profaned 251 

Stanzas  written  in  Dejection  near  Naples 276 

To  a  Skylark 296 

""    Ozymandias  of  Egypt 305 

To  a  Lady,  with  a  Guitar 312 

The  Invitation 325 

The  Recollection 326 

To  the  Moon 331 

A  Dream  of  the  Unknown 333 

Written  among  the  Euganean  Hills 348 

Ode  to  the  West  Wind 353 

The  Poet's  Dream 357 

A  Dirge 369 

Threnos 369 

-^•Masic,  when  soft  voices  die 376 

SHEPHERD  TONIE.  See  Munday 

SHIRLEY,  JAMES  (1596-1666) 

The  Last  Conqueror 79 

Death  the  Leveler 80 


454  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGE 

SIDNEY,  PHILIP  (1554-1586) 

Via  Amoris 9 

A  Ditty 21 

Sleep 26 

The  Nightingale 30 

The  Moon 38 

SMART,  CHRISTOPHER  (1722-1771) 

The  Song  of  David 178 

SOUTHEY,  ROBERT  (1774-1843) 

After  Blenheim 264 

The  Scholar 277 

SPENSER,  EDMUND  (1552-1599) 

Prothalamion 47 

SUCKLING,  JOHN  (1609-1642) 

Encouragements  to  a  Lover 107 

SYLVESTER,  JOSHUA  (1563-1618) 

Love's  Omnipresence       22 

THOMSON,  JAMES  (1700-1748) 

Rule  Britannia 150 

Forever,  Fortune,  wilt  thou  prove 168 

VAUGHAN,  HENRY  (1622-1695) 

The  Retreat 84 

Friends  in  Paradise 117 

A  Vision       138 

VERSTEGAN,  RICHARD  (c.  1635) 

Upon  my  lap  my  sovereign  sits 1 12 

WALLER,  EDMUND  (1606-1687) 

Go,  lovely  Rose 97 

On  a  Girdle 102 

WEBSTER,  JOHN  (1580?  ^162  5) 

A  Land  Dirge 43 

WILMOT,  JOHN  (1647-1680) 

Constancy 93 

WITHER,  GEORGE  (1588-1667) 

The  Manly  Heart 109 

WOLFE,  CHARLES  (1791-1823) 

The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore 267 

To  Mary 285 


INDEX  OF  WRITERS  455 

PAGE 

WORDSWORTH,  WILLIAM  (1770-1850) 

She  was  a  Phantom  of  delight 224 

She  dwelt  among  the  untrodden  ways 225 

I  travel'd  among  unknown  men 226 

The  Education  of  Nature 226 

A  slumber  did  my  spirit  seal 228 

Lucy  Gray 231 

To  a  Distant  Friend 238 

Desideria 248 

Ode  to  Duty 258 

England  and  Switzerland,  1802 260 

On  the  Extinction  of  the  Venetian  Republic 260 

London,  1802 261 

London,  1802 262 

When  I  have  borne  in  memory 262 

Simon  Lee 268 

A  Lesson 273 

The  Affliction  of  Margaret 292 

To  the  Skylark 295 

The  Green  Linnet 300 

To  the  Cuckoo 301 

Upon  Westminster  Bridge 304 

Composed  at  Neidpath  Castle 306 

Admonition  to  a  Traveler 307 

To  the  Highland  Girl  of  Inversneyde 308 

The  Reaper 310 

The  Reverie  of  Poor  Susan 311 

The  Daffodils 314 

To  the  Daisy 315 

Yarrow  Unvisited,  1803 320 

Yarrow  Visited,  1814 322 

By  the  Sea 329 

To  Sleep 331 

The  Inner  Vision 336 

Written  in  Early  Spring 339 

Ruth,  or  the  Influences  of  Nature 340 

Nature  and  the  Poet 355 

Glen-Almain,  the  Narrow  Glen 358 

The  World  is  too  much  with  us 359 

Within  King's  College  Chapel,  Cambridge 359 


45  6  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGE 

WORDSWORTH,  WILLIAM  (Continued} 

The  Two  April  Mornings 363 

The  Fountain 365 

The  Trosachs 369 

My  heart  leaps  up 370 

Ode  on  Intimations  of  Immortality 370 

WOTTON,  HENRY  (1568-1639) 

Character  of  a  Happy  Life 82 

Elizabeth  of  Bohemia 94 

WYAT,  THOMAS  (1503-1542) 

A  Supplication 19 

The  Lover's  Appeal 28 

ANONYMOUS 

Omnia  Vincit 6 

A  Picture 15 

A  Song  for  Music 15 

In  Lacrimas 20 

Love's  Insight 22 

An  Honest  Autolycus       23 

The  Unfaithful  Shepherdess .    .  34 

Advice  to  a  Lover 35 

A  Sweet  Lullaby 37 

A  Dilemma 45 

The  Great  Adventurer 89 

Love  in  thy  youth,  fair  Maid 97 

My  Love  in  her  attire 102 

Love  not  me  for  comely  grace 104 

Forsaken in 

Fair  Helen 113 

The  Twa  Corbies 114 

Willie  drowned  in  Yarrow    . 159 

Absence 197 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 


PAGE 

A  Chieftain  to  the  Highlands  bound 229 

A  child  's  a  plaything  for  an  hour 292 

A  flock  of  sheep  that  leisurely  pass  by .  331 

A  slumber  did  my  spirit  seal  ....         228 

A  sweet  disorder  in  the  dress 101 

A  weary  lot  is  thine,  fair  maid 244 

A  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea 253 

Absence,  hear  thou  this  protestation  .    .    .    .    • 9 

Ah,  Chloris !  could  I  now  but  sit 92 

Ah  !  County  Guy,  the  hour  is  nigh 235 

All  in  the  Downs  the  fleet  was  moor'd 162 

All  thoughts,  all  passions,  all  delights 216 

And  are  ye  sure  the  news  is  true 195 

And  is  this  —  Yarrow  ?  —  This  the  stream 322 

And  thou  art  dead,  as  young  and  fair 249 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus ..;.....  28 

Ariel  to  Miranda : — Take 312 

Art  thou  pale  for  weariness 331 

Art  thou  poor,  yet  hast  thou  golden  slumbers 53 

As  I  was  walking  all  alane  .    .    . .    .  114 

As  it  fell  upon  a  day 29 

As  slow  our  ship  her  foamy  track 272 

At  the  corner  of  Wood  Street,  when  daylight  appears 311 

At  the  mid  hour  of  night,  when  stars  are  weeping,  I  fly    .    .    .    .  249 

Avenge,  O  Lord !  Thy  slaughter'd  saints,  whose  bones      ....  69 

Awake,  ^olian  lyre,  awake 170 

Awake,  awake,  my  Lyre 108 

Bards  of  Passion  and  of  Mirth 214 

Beauty  sat  bathing  by  a  spring 14 

Behold  her,  single  in  the  field     .    .    ,    .    ;    .  u    .......  310. 

457 


458  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGE 

Being  your  slave,  what  should  I  do  but  tend 10 

Beneath  these  fruit-tree  boughs  that  shed 300 

Best  and  brightest,  come  away 325 

Bid  me  to  live,  and  I  will  live 104 

Blest  pair  of  Sirens,  pledges  of  Heaven's  joy 134 

Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind 36 

Bright  Star  !  would  I  were  steadfast  as  thou  art 247 

Call  for  the  robin-redbreast  and  the  wren 43 

Calm  was  the  day,  and  through  the  trembling  air 47 

Captain,  or  Colonel,  or  Knight  in  Arms 81 

Care-charmer  Sleep,  son  of  the  sable  Night 30 

Come,  cheerful  day,  part  of  my  life  to  me 53 

Come,  Sleep  :  O  Sleep  !  the  certain  knot  of  peace 26 

Come  away,  come  away,  Death 41 

Come  little  babe,  come  silly  soul 37 

Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  Love 5 

Come  unto  these  yellow  sands 2 

Crabbed  Age  and  Youth 7 

Cupid  and  my  Campaspe  play'd 46 

Cyriack,  whose  grandsire,  on  the  royal  bench 85 

Daughter  of  Jove,  relentless  power 204 

Daughter  to  that  good  Earl,  once  President 95 

Degenerate  Douglas !  oh,  the  unworthy  lord 306 

Doth  then  the  world  go  thus,  doth  all  thus  move 56 

Down  in  yon  garden  sweet  and  gay 1 59 

Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes 98 

Duncan  Gray  cam  here  to  woo 194 

Earl  March  look'd  on  his  dying  child 246 

Earth  has  not  anything  to  show  more  fair 304 

E'en  like  two  little  bank-dividing  brooks 103 

Eternal  Spirit  of  the  chainless  Mind 259 

Ethereal  minstrel !  pilgrim  of  the  sky     . 295 

Ever  let  the  Fancy  roam **  *  V   .....  336 

Fain  would  I  change  that  note 6 

Fair  Daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 118 

Fair  pledges  of  a  fruitful  tree .  118 

Farewell !  thou  art  too  dear  for  my  possessing 27 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES  459 

PAGE 

Fear  no  more  the  heat  o'  the  sun 42 

Fine  knacks  for  ladies,  cheap,  choice,  brave,  and  new 23 

Follow  thy  fair  sun,  unhappy  shadow .    .    .    .    ,    .' 32 

Forever,  Fortune,  wilt  thou  prove 168 

Forget  not  yet  the  tried  intent 19 

Four  Seasons  fill  the  measure  of  the  year 368 

From  Harmony,  from  heavenly  Harmony 67 

From  Stirling  Castle  we  had  seen 320 

Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies 42 

Gather  ye  rosebuds  while  ye  may 93 

Gem  of  the  crimson-color'd  Even 236 

Get  up,  get  up,  for  shame  !    The  blooming  morn 99 

Go,  lovely  Rose , .-...,  ...,•  .  97 

Go  fetch  to  me  a  pint  o' wine 165 

Hail  thou  most  sacred  venerable  thing 137 

Hail  to  thee,  blithe  Spirit •    •,   • 296 

Happy  the  man,  whose  wish  and  care 147 

Happy  those  early  days,  when  I 84 

Happy  were  he  could  finish  forth  his  fate 57 

He  is  gone  on  the  mountain 286 

He  sang  of  God,  the  mighty  source 178 

He  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek 96 

Hence,  all  you  vain  delights no 

Hence,  loathed  Melancholy 124 

Hence,  vain  deluding  Joys       128 

Highway,  since  you  my  chief  Parnassus  be 9 

How  happy  is  he  born  and  taught 82 

How  like  a  winter  hath  my  absence  been 10 

How  sleep  the  brave,  who  sink  to  rest 1 56 

How  sweet  the  answer  Echo  makes 235 

How  vainly  men  themselves  amaze 120 

I  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey 205 

I  arise  from  dreams  of  Thee 222 

I  cannot  change,  as  others  do 93 

I  dream'd  that  as  I  wander'd  by  the  way 333 

I  fear  thy  kisses,  gentle  maiden 225 

I  have  had  playmates,  I  have  had  companions 271 


460  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGE 

I  have  no  name 178 

I  heard  a  thousand  blended  notes 339 

I  'm  wearing  awa',  Jean 199 

I  meet  thy  pensive,  moonlight  face 228 

I  met  a  traveler  from  an  antique  land 305 

I  remember,  I  remember 274 

I  saw  Eternity  the  other  night 138 

I  saw  her  in  childhood 287 

I  saw  my  Lady  weep 20 

I  saw  where  in  the  shroud  did  lurk 290 

I  travel'd  among  unknown  men 226 

I  've  heard  them  lilting  at  our  ewe-milking 157 

I  wander'd  lonely  as  a  cloud 314 

I  was  thy  neighbor  once,  thou  rugged  Pile 355 

1  wish  I  were  where  Helen  lies 113 

If  aught  of  oaten  stop  or  pastoral  song 184 

If  doughty  deeds  my  lady  please 166 

If  I  had  thought  thou  couldst  have  died 285 

If  Thou  survive  my  well-contented  day 43 

If  to  be  absent  were  to  be 106 

In  a  drear-nighted  December .  240 

In  the  downhill  of  life,  when  I  find  I'm  declining 211 

In  the  sweet  shire  of  Cardigan 268 

In  this  still  place,  remote  from  men 358 

In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan 334 

It  is  a  beauteous  evening,  calm  and  free 329 

It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree 83 

It  was  a  dismal  and  a  fearful  night 115 

It  was  a  lover  and  his  lass 8 

It  was  a  summer  evening 264 

Jack  and  Joan,  they  think  no  ill 123 

John  Anderson  my  jo,  John 198 

Lady,  when  I  behold  the  roses  sprouting    . 45 

Lawrence,  of  virtuous  father  virtuous  son  .    .    .    ,.:.    «•-.    .  .»    .  85 

Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minds 21 

Life!  I  know  not  what  thou  art 212 

Like  as  the  waves  make  towards  the  pebbled  shore 26 

Like  to  the  clear  in  highest  sphere 13 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES  461 

PAGE 

Lo!  where  the  rosy-bosom'd  Hours 179 

Love  in  my  bosom,  like  a  bee 45 

Love  in  thy  youth,  fair  Maid,  be  wise 97 

Love  not  me  for  comely  grace 104 

Many  a  green  isle  needs  must  be 348 

Mary  !  I  want  a  lyre  with  other  strings 207 

Milton !  thou  shouldst  be  living  at  this  hour 262 

Mine  be  a  cot  beside  the  hill 183 

Mortality,  behold  and  fear 79 

Most  sweet  it  is  with  unuplifted  eyes 336 

Much  have  I  travel'd  in  the  realms  of  gold 216 

Music,  when  soft  voices  die 376 

My  days  among  the  Dead  are  past 277 

My  heart  aches,  and  a  drowsy  numbness  pains 302 

My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 370 

My  Love  in  her  attire  doth  show  her  wit 102 

My  lute,  be  as  thou  wert  when  thou  didst  grow 41 

My  thoughts  hold  mortal  strife 40 

My  true-love  hath  my  heart,  and  I  have  his 21 

Never  love  unless  you  can       18 

Never  seek  to  tell  thy  love 169 

No  longer  mourn  for  me  when  I  am  dead 44 

Not,  Celia,  that  I  juster  am 105 

Not  a  drum  was  heard,  not  a  funeral  note 267 

Now  the  golden  Morn  aloft 143 

Now  the  last  day  of  many  days 326 

O  blithe  newcomer !  I  have  heard 301 

O  Brignall  banks  are  wild  and  fair 220 

O  Friend!  I  know  not  which  way  I  must  look 261 

O  happy  shades  !  to  me  unblest 203 

O  if  thou  knew'st  how  thou  thyself  dost  harm 20 

O  leave  this  barren  spot  to  me 306 

O  listen,  listen,  ladies  gay 288 

O  lovers*  eyes  are  sharp  to  see 245 

O  Mary,  at  thy  window  be 190 

O  me !  what  eyes  hath  love  put  in  my  head 33 

O  Mistress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming 23 


462  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGB. 

O  my  Luve  's  like  a  red,  red  rose        192 

O  never  say  that  I  was  false  of  heart 12 

O  saw  ye  bonnie  Lesley 191 

O  say  what  is  that  thing  call'd  Light 147 

O  talk  not  to  me  of  a  name  great  in  story 219 

O  Thou,  by  Nature  taught 145 

O  waly  waly  up  the  bank in 

O  what  can  ail  thee,  knight-at-arms 242 

O  wild  West  Wind,  thou  breath  of  Autumn's  being 353 

O  World  !  O  Life  !  O  Time 369 

Obscurest  night  involved  the  sky 209 

Of  all  the  girls  that  are  so  smart 163 

Of  a' the  airts  the  wind  can  blaw 197 

Of  Nelson  and  the  North 255 

Of  Neptune's  empire  let  us  sing 86 

Of  this  fair  volume  which  we  World  do  name 56 

Oft  I  had  heard  of  Lucy  Gray 231 

Oft  in  the  stilly  night  .    .    .    .    -.    . 275 

Oh  snatch'd  away  in  beauty's  bloom 283 

On  a  day,  alack  the  day .  18 

On  a  Poet's  lips  I  slept 357 

On  Linden,  when  the  sun  was  low 263 

Once  did  She  hold  the  gorgeous  East  in  fee 260 

One  more  Unfortunate 280 

One  word  is  too  often  profaned 251 

Our  bugles  sang  truce,  for  the  night  cloud  had  lower'd 332 

Over  the  mountains 89 

Pack,  clouds,  away,  and  welcome  day 47 

Phoebus,  arise       3 

Pibroch  of  Donuil  Dhu 252 

Poor  Soul,  the  center  of  my  sinful  earth 54 

Proud  Maisie  is  in  the  wood 279 

Queen  and  Huntress,  chaste  and  fair 87 

Rough  Wind,  that  meanest  loud 369 

Ruin  seize  thee,  ruthless  King 151 

Season  of  mists  and  mellow  fruitfulness 317 

See  with  what  simplicity 91 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES  463 

PAGE 

Shall  I,  wasting  in  despair 109 

Shall  I  compare  thee  to  a  summer's  day 16 

She  dwelt  among  the  untrodden  ways 225 

She  is  not  fair  to  outward  view 225 

She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night     .  ;  .,   4-  *    *   >   »  .- 223 

She  was  a  Phantom  of  delight 224 

Since  brass,  nor  stone,  nor  earth,  nor  boundless  sea 5 

Since  there  's  no  help,  come  let  us  kiss  and  part 31 

Sleep,  angry  beauty,  sleep  and  fear  not  me 33 

Sleep,  sleep,  beauty  bright 179 

Sleep  on,  and  dream  of  Heaven  awhile 167 

Souls  of  Poets  dead  and  gone 278 

Spring,  the  sweet  Spring,  is  the  year's  pleasant  king I 

Star  that  bringest  home  the  bee 329 

Stern  Daughter  of  the  Voice  of  God 258 

Surprised  by  joy — impatient  as  the  wind 248 

Sweet,  be  not  proud  of  those  two  eyes 96 

Sweet  Highland  Girl,  a  very  shower 308 

Sweet  Love,  if  thou  wilt  gain  a  monarch's  glory 15 

Sweet  stream,  that  winds  through  yonder  glade 167 

Swiftly  walk  over  the  western  wave 237 

Take,  O  take  those  lips  away 31 

Tax  not  the  royal  Saint  with  vain  expense 359 

Tell  me  not,  Sweet,  I  am  unkind 94 

Tell  me  where  is  Fancy  bred 44 

That  time  of  year  thou  may'st  in  me  behold 24 

That  which  her  slender  waist  confined 102 

The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day 186 

The  forward  youth  that  would  appear 69 

The  fountains  mingle  with  the  river 234 

The  glories  of  our  blood  and  state  . 80 

The  last  and  greatest  Herald  of  Heaven's  King 58 

The  lovely  lass  o'  Inverness 1 56 

The  man  of  life  upright 55 

The  merchant,  to  secure  his  treasure 168 

The  more  we  live,  more  brief  appear 367 

The  nightingale,  as  soon  as  April  bringeth 30 

The  poplars  are  felPd ;  farewell  to  the  shade 181 

The  sea  hath  many  thousand  sands 35 


464  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGE 

The  sun  is  warm,  the  sky  is  clear 276 

The  sun  upon  the  lake  is  low 330 

The  twentieth  year  is  well-nigh  past 207 

The  World  is  too  much  with  us ;  late  and  soon 359 

There  be  none  of  Beauty's  daughters 222 

There  is  a  Flower,  the  lesser  Celandine 273 

There  is  a  garden  in  her  face 98 

There 's  not  a  joy  the  world  can  give  like  that  it  takes  away  .    .    .  273 

There  's  not  a  nook  within  this  solemn  Pass 369 

There  was  a  time  when  meadow,  grove,  and  stream 370 

They  are  all  gone  into  the  world  of  light 117 

They  that  have  power  to  hurt,  and  will  do  none 27 

This  is  the  month,  and  this  the  happy  morn 59 

'This  Life,  which  seems  so  fair 54 

Thou  art  not  fair,  for  all  thy  red  and  white 35 

Thou  still  unravish'd  bride  of  quietness 360 

Though  others  may  her  brow  adore 22 

Three  years  she  grew  in  sun  and  shower 226 

Thy  braes  were  bonny,  Yarrow  stream 157 

Timely  blossom,  Infant  fair 149 

Tired  with  all  these,  for  restful  death  I  cry 57 

To  me,  fair  Friend,  you  never  can  be  old 12 

To  one  who  has  been  long  in  city  pent 305 

Toll  for  the  Brave 160 

Turn  back,  you  wanton  flyer 17 

'Twas  at  the  royal  feast  for  Persia  won 138 

'T  was  on  a  lofty  vase's  side 148 

Two  Voices  are  there ;  one  is  of  the  Sea 260 

Under  the  greenwood  tree 8 

Upon  my  lap  my  sovereign,  sits 112 

Verse,  a  breeze  'mid  blossoms  straying 361 

Victorious  men  of  earth,  no  more 79 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay 294 

We  talk'd  with  open  heart,  and  tongue 365 

We  walk'd  along,  while  bright  and  red 363 

We  watch'd  her  breathing  thro'  the  night 286 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES  465 

PAGE 

Wee,  sleekit,  cow'rin',  tim'rous  beastie 182 

Weep  not,  my  wanton,  smile  upon  my  knee 39 

Weep  you  no  more,  sad  fountains 15 

Were  I  as  base  as  is  the  lowly  plain 22 

When  Britain  first  at  Heaven's  command 150 

When  first  the  fiery-mantled  Sun 318 

When  God  at  first  made  Man 83 

When  he  who  adores  thee  has  left  but  the  name 266 

When  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent 81 

When  I  have  borne  in  memory  what  has  tamed 262 

When  I  have  fears  that  I  may  cease  to  be 248 

When  I  have  seen  by  Time's  fell  hand  defaced 4 

When  I  survey  the  bright 135 

When  I  think  on  the  happy  days 197 

When  icicles  hang  by  the  wall 24 

When  in  disgrace  with  fortune  and  men's  eyes 1 1 

When  in  the  chronicle  of  wasted  time 16 

When  Love  with  unconfmed  wings 105 

When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  folly 169 

When  maidens  such  as  Hester  die 284 

When  Music,  heavenly  maid,  was  young 174 

When  Ruth  was  left  half  desolate 340 

When  the  lamp  is  shatter'd 244 

When  the  sheep  are  in  the  fauld,  and  the  kye  at  hame 193 

When  thou  must  home  to  shades  of  underground 39 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought 25 

When  we  two  parted 239 

Whenas  in  silks  my  Julia  goes 102 

Where  art  thou,  my  beloved  Son 292 

Where  shall  the  lover  rest .    .  241 

Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I 2 

Where  the  remote  Bermudas  ride 133 

Whether  on  Ida's  shady  brow 214 

While  that  the  sun  with  his  beams  hot 34 

Whoe'er  she  be 87 

Why  art  thou  silent  ?   Is  thy  love  a  plant 238 

Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover 107 

Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  ladie 233 

With  how  sad  steps,  O  Moon,  thou  climb'st  the  skies    .....  38 


466  THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY 

PAGB 

With  little  here  to  do  or  see 315 

With  sweetest  milk  and  sugar  first 119 

Ye  banks  and  braes  and  streams  around 192 

Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Boon 170 

Ye  distant  spires,  ye  antique  towers 200 

Ye  Mariners  of  England 254 

Yes,  there  is  holy  pleasure  in  thine  eye 307 

Yet  once  more,  O  ye  laurels,  and  once  more 73 

You  meaner  beauties  of  the  night 94 


(fffte   SUfjenaeum   J)res6 

GINN  AND  COMPANY  •  PRO- 
PRIETORS •  BOSTON  •  U.S.A. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

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